Changing Circumstances
by Leara they said
Summary: Rejoining the Carter household. After Jack deploys off-world, Sam discovers something that will change their family. But then Jaffa come for an 8-year-old Ellie. Part two in my "Seize the Orbit" series. Established!Sam/Jack.. for now. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Yes, I am back! After a week of studying, nervousness, exams and stressing, I am back with the (much shorter) sequel to "Changing Priorities". While I think it is possible to read as a stand-alone, there will be much enlightenment to those who follow the path. Er, I mean, read the first one. About this, I have never intended it to be an actual story. More like an interlude at first, but then the idea grew into a plot-worthy one, and now where it's clear in my head, it couldn't be presented as flashbacks in the next story. The chapters will be shorter, and I warn against shippy moments (not as much moments as feelings) between Sam/Jack for non-shippers. I have thrown in some Lantash/Sam, and yeah, I like the idea of bringing Martouf back, but that's only if a find a realistic reason and way to do that. So, instead of being a random interlude between stories 1 and 2, I made this story the second in my "Seize the Orbit"-verse. I hope I do my reviewers proud. Enjoy :)

Also, to you who haven't read Changing Priorities (do so), time doesn't add up if you want to follow the canon storylines in consistency with ages, et cetera. Don't think too much about it. I will drop references.

**Disclaimer: **I can in no way claim to own any of this, Stargate belongs to its rightful owners and it's definitely not me.

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STARGATE SG-1: Changing Circumstances

_A_ Stargate: SG-1_ fan fiction_

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The light breeze is welcomed in the Minnesotan cabin by the fishless lake as it travels throughout the rooms to the grassy surroundings before calming down. By the slumber movements of the tall elm trees, you can tell it is still there, though.

Droplets of sweat find their way down her temples, hastily scooped away by the back of her hand. She is no stranger to hard work, but in this heat it is close to exhausting. Humidity and the beaming sun, both merciless enemies of previously unrivaled character. The August sun burns her skin tan, flushing her cheeks in the process.

Samantha finishes off her chores, scouting for the odd pair. Years ago she would have brushed off and even been slightly repelled by the idea of being a stay-at-home housewife. While the term doesn't apply to her wholly, some aspects of it are true.

She finishes preparing the salads and steps out on the verandah, embracing the scent that is the one of steaks on the grill, sizzling in spices. She takes her time placing the bowls on the set wooden table, smiling at the sight of her eight-year-old daughter and her former commanding officer. They go by first names now and have been for some time since they rekindled. To her daughter, he is, and will always be, "Jack". Introduced into her life when she was barely four years old, Ellie had been tentative at first but quickly learnt to trust the Colonel. Now rarely a weekend goes by without going to his cabin in Minnesota, famed for its fishing opportunities and its lack of fish. In the past Jack has gone there for privacy. Now he opens it for visits anytime.

Sam smiles; while the cabin is half across the country from their Californian home, she likes coming here, spending time with Jack and Ellie. Ellie had been patient when Jack had insisted on teaching her how to fish, and she had quickly gotten a hold of it, far too early realizing the doomed potential for catches but nevertheless enjoyed the lessons.

Ellie is incredibly smart for a child her age. She has just started first grade and has a remarkable sense of logic. Sam is just glad that she has stopped shifting between English and Goa'uld constantly. Truly bilingual, it had been hard to explain to Ellie that she couldn't speak or write in an interstellar language spoken by aliens alike, even if she is fluent and her penmanship flawless. Her teachers praise her and can barely keep up with her fast leaning curve. Frankly, Sam had been worried when Jack had suggested she attend a public school.

While Jack is still in the Air Force, Sam has retired years ago, mainly because of Ellie. She still works on the Stargate program as a civilian consultant and helps calculate and adjust the gate itself, but they are no longer going against regulations by pursuing a romantic relationship.

"Wonderful weather, isn't it?" Jack comments, turning the steaks and glancing at the sky shortly before snaking his arm at her waist, possessively pressing them closer. His breath smells of light beer and the remnants aftershave on his face. Sam chuckles and presses her lips softly to his in a light gesture, enjoying his proximity. When she was under his command, they could have never done so without breaking regulations. Part of the bliss that is not working for the Air Force any longer.

Ellie follows suit, smiling widely at them. Her hair hangs loose in braids, tousled by activity. She gives her a lop-sided grin and joins the hug.

"Any catches?" Sam asks, amused as they let go. Jack's beloved cap sits on his scalp, offering some shade and subsequently hiding the tints of grey.

"None," Ellie says before Jack can open his mouth. She doesn't seem disappointed by the fact, instead she smiles as if she was the sun itself. She rarely is disappointed in things, not even the fact that Sam has waited years to answer her pleas about horseback riding. It is only this year Sam has opened up to the idea of allowing her daughter the chance to ride any horse large enough to step on her. She knows it was foolish to keep her daughter from it, having ridden bareback herself, but maternal instincts have kept Ellie from ever riding until recently.

Ellie doesn't have any pets. Sam won't allow it given their former spontaneous life. When Ellie was a mere toddler, Sam commuted across states to keep up with her civilian Stargate contract, often dumping her daughter at her brother's in San Diego. Although the commuting has quieted down drastically in the last few years, Sam finds herself unwilling to bring the topic up, afraid that she may be talked into it by a joined effort of Jack and Ellie. Honestly, sometimes she isn't sure who is the worst of the two.

Cassie Fraiser is absent this weekend, although it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Recently her studies have taken their toll on the teenager and her adoptive mother won't allow her homework to be abandoned or done sloppily. Sam recognizes the benign intentions, but knows that Cassandra may not see it that way, so she had been forgiving when the teen had called and sullenly informed her that she would not be joining the pair and Ellie this weekend.

Part of why is homework, but the other part is the expensive plane ticket. While Cassie often commutes with Jack, Sam and Ellie have half a country to cross. She is not saying it is not worth it, but she has grown more reluctant in taking Ellie away from school and her friends in the Californian elementary school. Jack's surprise visits are always a pleasure, to put it mildly, but she knows that it can't be easy on him, flying between San Diego, Colorado Springs and Minnesota on his downtime. Despite this, he has never voiced any concerns about their relationship. Long-distance or not, she still feels the tingly feeling whenever she sees him, be it for the first time that week or the thousandth. Four years ago she _did _consider moving to Colorado Springs – mostly to reconnect with her once-friends, but also because of the beginning of a relationship with Jack – but found her reasons selfish. Ellie had friends and family in California. She was used to seeing her uncle and cousins twice a week! Besides, she only doubted her decision once things started to happen between her and Jack.

Now she looks at them, a fond expression on her face as they eat together, being that commercially perfect view of an american family. Except for the fact that her and Jack are space-exploring members of a secret program called Stargate, operating out of Cheyenne Mountain. Well, in her case, _retired _space-explorer, but every one of them has been on other planets. She still shudders and grits her teeth when she thinks of Ellie's first – and only – time off-world. It did not happen with her consent. Due to a conflict of interest, the Tok'ra – a friendly group of resistance Goa'uld symbiotes – managed to convince the SGC of the importance of scanning and studying Elara, seeing as she was, and is, as far as Sam knows, the only child of two Tok'ra hosts. Sam will never forget the way her daughter glanced at the Stargate like it was everyday public transportation before she arrived on Vorash. Sam still hasn't quite forgiven her father for that. Then again, according to Jack, Lantash is still giving her father a hard time over it, so the thought makes her smile.

Even though Elara's biological father is dead, and the closest thing a six-inch serpentine symbiote who works for the Tok'ra in the fight against the Goa'uld, Lantash still finds comfort in being protective. He makes sure, whether Jack likes it or not, to send a kind message to Sam and Ellie whenever he stops by. He is one of the more pro-Tau'ri when it comes to the political aspects of the Tok'ra and is therefore often sent to deal with the SGC's problems or to brief the SG teams on matters of importance. Lantash and his current host, Alaric (who seems to be pretty dispassionate and easily bored), are not allowed to be off-base, so she hasn't seen them for years. Hell knows she hasn't quite forgiven her father for exposing Ellie to that kind of trouble. Ellie doesn't have a lot of immediate family, but she has another kind of family from Sam, Mark, Lisa and David: the Stargate family, SG-1 and the medical officer in charge, Janet Fraiser and her daughter, Cassie. Then she has George Hammond and several of the base personnel as further cooers, her surroundings filled with people who love her.

Jack is pretty much her stepdad already. The thought makes Sam's head spin, her heart thud and face blush. They have never sat down and discussed the terms of the relationship. Seeing as Sam is no longer military, it just sort of happened. Not that she regrets it; no. The day she told Martouf her her pregnancy was the the day she declared her love for Jack. Awful timing, but nevertheless a fierce feeling that rekindled as Jack stepped back into her life. And she did hesitate, knowing that any heartache on her part would affect Ellie. While her parents weren't the best exhibits, she was aware of how it would affect Ellie if Jack dropped in and out of her life. She now sees Jack at least every second weekend. Seeing as it is summer vacation, those weekends have increased, but only slightly as Jack still has to go off-world plenty.

It used to annoy her; having him go off-world into dangerous situations of no alike, while she was working on theoretical astrophysics and lesser important matters on Earth at Area 51. She worries, and in the beginning wished to go with him because of the leftovers of Pakhet's adventurous spirit, but then reminds herself that Ellie has to have some stability.

Pakhet. The thought still takes her breath away. Pakhet had changed her life so drastically that it couldn't be compared to Ellie and her miraculously child-like ways. Pakhet, a thousand plus year old Goa'uld who infested her unwillingly. Frankly it sounds so foolishly naïve now, but at the time, Sam had felt the waves of benign intentions coming from her like a soothing sedatives or the sound of waves on a beach. Pakhet changed her. Gave her perspective on things past and of the present; she gave her the gift of understanding the remnant of love between her and Lantash; how it wasn't residual from Martouf, but honest love towards Lantash. Under the circumstances, Sam would have been scared, confused and utterly infuriated, but the symbiote fondly, kindly and patiently awaited her acceptance and willing partnership.

She is on medication. Mild ones, suppressants. Her brain would overload at the thousands of years of memories that Pakhet left her with, transferring them all as a way of paying her debt. She had migraines for weeks until they found the right dose. Even considered adding yoga and meditation to her list of efforts. Having memories without guidance, without Pakhet to focus them and explain them – she felt like she went insane. Luckily, her and Janet had found a temporary cure before Ellie turned four years old, returning everything back to normal for the kid.

Not _everything_, Sam reminds herself, a bad habit from having two consciousnesses in her mind. Inner dialogues aren't as fun as they sound. Or as crazy. No matter what her parentage is, she is still going to grow up like million of other kids with a split family. Granted, her father didn't leave her or Sam, or divorce them; he died, and what is left on him is another creature on another planet. When people ask, Sam says "he died", because it is the truth. Most of it, and the closest thing one without national security clearance could know. Everything about Elara is classified, or became classified four years ago when the SGC discovered her existence. Instead of the pediatrician she'd found when Ellie was two (and looked long for, fearing what she might say to abnormal DNA), Ellie now regularly visits Janet Fraiser when she is on the Air Force Academy Hospital. If she is feeling sick, Sam can merely call her best friend.

Janet Fraiser was one of the first to forgive her for hiding from them. She wasn't that satisfied with "not being informed of being an auntie", but once she grew past that, she fiercely demanded that everyone forgive her best friend. Today Sam and Janet are as close as they were before Ellie, the only differences in their relationship being that they're both moms and no longer co-workers.

While Ellie tells them of her latest riding lesson – a story involving a chestnut pony named Whiskey, who apparently has the most laughable neigh anyone's ever heard – Sam takes in the utter look of perfection. She knows real perfection is to much to ask for in this world (or worlds, for that matter), and she has never tried to be the picture perfect or to demand such from anyone she knows, but they're doing fine and they're happy. What's not to love? She loves the way her daughter enthusiastically tells Jack about her day, repeating herself over and over, her excitement exhausting and yet inspiring and how Jack listens patiently with the same enthusiasm. He comments on it, appreciating the fact she's telling him, acting exactly like any father would. And it also saddens her, because of Martouf and because of Charlie. Because of the opportunity to be a father that was taken away from Jack. And the same opportunity taken away from Martouf. And she knows better not to think that Jack doesn't draw parallels. Mustn't he wonder what it must've been like, if Ellie had been Charlie and she Sara? She also knows better than not to compare the two situations. She is no Sara; she knows what is out there, has clearance and doesn't demand Jack's full attention. She cannot judge Sara, because she hasn't met her and only has the biased version of Jack's responses. Sara and Jack grew apart because of what happened.

This new Jack – who she recognizes from her time as a major; he hasn't changed that much – is more patient, less angry, more acceptable of himself. And she knows that he doesn't just put a mask on for Ellie. He adores her, he cherishes her. He treats her like she is his angel. And that came naturally when they started over again, relearning to step in the dance between one another. Now Sam sees the personal side of Jack O'Neill. The calm, the thoughtful, the reflecting. The only thing she regrets is not seeing him in action. On missions. But she has Ellie, and when he is on Earth, she has him. And that is fine.

Because Sam Carter loves Jack O'Neill and they both know it.

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**A/N: **OK, I know it's short, but I wanted to publish the moment I came home from my last exam. The last two oral exams got me two As. I'm extremely proud. My ego is boosted, but still, review?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Had to keep re-writing this. Couldn't get in the mood and kept whining to myself until I did it. I'm not satisfied with it, but I don't think I ever will be, concerning this part, so here you have it.

I have never been in the States, so I have honestly no idea how the weather is in California. I'm sorry for any and all the mistakes I make.

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Stargate franchise. Any credit should be given to the wonderful creators, producers, directors, owners and actors of the three television series and movies respectively.**

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**Changing Circumstances chapter two**

When she recalls living in Washington, she understands why she has found it so hard to adapt into the dry Californian heat. Ellie has none of these troubles, having spent all her life living at their house on Pine Lake Drive in Colfax. Sam smiles at the memory of her introduction to the house. Her realtor had been truly puzzled at her demands, especially when she didn't ask for populated, toddler-friendly areas with nearby playgrounds and kindergartens. Which was why she had brought Mark, to at least assure the realtor that she wasn't a first-timer with no sense of experience. Five months pregnant, showing, and asking none of the typical questions a pregnant house-buyer would. But in the end, the house was perfectly suited for her needs.

Three bedrooms, one long ago made guestroom for occasions when Janet Fraiser flies in. Even though they're both busy mothers now, Sam cannot deny that she enjoys spending time with Janet, more than she should. There is lot of space in the house, lots of maintenance. Yet she hasn't moved, because this is the house where Ellie grew up. The house where she is growing up. And her own broken record has taught her that one home is better than twenty houses. That she has learnt from moving around constantly with her father.

The temperature is different, the sun more aggressive. She has experience with multiple suns, multiple solar systems. None of them have been places of permanent stays, which means that she tans easier than Ellie; of her versatility she always envies. Sometimes she curses Martouf for gifting their daughter with his skin rather than her fair one. Ellie has rarely needed sunscreen. Her? She burns rather than tans, leaving pink flesh sore to the touch. And what bothers her is, most people on other planets are too primitive to use or fabricate sunscreen and therefore their skin does not appear scorched. In hindsight, that really annoys Sam.

While their garden is small, the backyard a bit larger, the lawn still needs to be mowed regularly, the fence painted and the rope on the makeshift swing in the tree replaced. Sam has decided that in the next trail of weekends, she is going to do just that. With a bucket of white paint and a wristwatch secured on her forearm, she starts in the rear end of the backyard, humming a merry jingle from a commercial she can't remember. She has dressed in her oldest pair of faded jeans, a nondescript top that will go directly to the garbage can after this assignment and mismatched flip-floppers made of foam rubber. She has mowed the lawn yesterday although constant use has made it flat by default. She has placed industrial plastic on the tiles where she risks spilling paint. It takes forever to get off, she knows from experience in her own college years.

Sam doesn't forget time; she makes sure every time she has painted three planks of fence to check time. When it is time to clean up and switch clothes, she hears a clearing throat and spins around unceremoniously. She hasn't heard anyone arriving. Yet there stands Jack O'Neill with a duffel bag thrown casually over his shoulder, civilian clothes on, with a cheeky smirk at the sight of her mismatching clothes.

"Jack!" she grins, a little at odds. "I thought you said you couldn't come this weekend!" she says confused, painting brush in hand, forearms stained with titanium white paint 403, looking impossibly unattractive. And she can neither hug him, kiss him or greet him without messing up his clothes as well. And damn if he doesn't look cheeky right now, knowing what she just assessed.

"Pulled some favors," is all he claims, putting the duffel bag down. He sweeps his sunglasses off – she notices it is the same ones from missions and wonders how he managed to sneak off-world BDU equipment off-base, but then remembers that he's Jack O'Neill and wouldn't be if he didn't try that one – and steps closer, glancing at her and the fence. "Looks like fun."

She shrugs, smile still tucked in place. "It's work."

"Oh, I wasn't speaking about the fence, Sam," he smiles, dropping the bag and stepping in to give her a light kiss, inevitably pulling her into his personal space and getting all whitely stained in the process. She grins, running her hand through his hair. Now it is truly salt-and-pepper.

"You do know this is going to take forever to wash off, right?" she reminds him as he reluctantly lets her go. She gestures to his blouse, his arms, his hair.

"Sam," he says seriously. "I do like a challenge."

She blurts into laughter at that, feeling her stomach do somersaults at the very serious expression at the very O'Neill-like offer. And she can barely keep herself from smiling at the idea of Jack doing her that favor. She quickly shakes out of it once she remembers Ellie's riding lessons. She should be done by now.

"I need to go change, Jack, and pick up Ellie from the equestrian school," she reminds him; he can't possibly have forgotten that Ellie takes lessons on Fridays, yet she hates to spoil this utterly childish and ambiguous conversation filled with underlying messages.

"I called Andy and convinced him to do that," he admits sheepishly.

She raises a brow cockily. "Why?"

He turns around so instead of walking next to her, he is in front of her, running his hands caressingly over her forearms. "So I could have you for myself," he whispers in her ear, his tone suggestive and loving all the same. And Sam blushingly admits, she likes it. Yet the maternal part of her kicks in, ruining a perfect opportunity to be reckless and careless.

"And, what then? I mean, they're going to be here in twenty minutes, half an hour tops," she points out, studying his handsome features with a flippancy.

"And," he picks up, continuing her trail of thoughts, "I kinda talked him and Alyson into taking her for the night. What? Am I so in trouble for wanting to spend a night with you?" he says, phrasing it so she cannot possibly be mad.

"Does that line work on all the girls?" she asks, smiling.

"Dunno. All I need is one," he replies sweetly with his hands clasped behind her back. If it hadn't been for her flushed cheeks, sweaty palms and state of physical repulsiveness, she would have found it romantic. But right now she could smell the chemical scent of paint and sweat, and hardly call herself attractive or in the mood.

"Jack," she says breathlessly, disentangling herself from his embrace. His arms is sloped over her shoulders as they walk to the patio. "I really need a shower."

Reluctantly, and pouting, he lets her go, waiting outside while she showers. And even though she has putted the lid on the paint bucket, she finds him painting the fence by the time she steps out on the verandah, newly showered, hair wet and messy, frizzled. The light-weight, white and loose cotton pants are better than the discarded jeans, her feet bare and torso clad in a teal halter top. She dries her hair – longer now than ever per Ellie's request – with one of the soft, lightly perfumed towels as she descends the stairs, studying Jack and his concentration. She could watch him forever. Refreshed, she sneaks across the lawn, the grass brushing the soles of her feet, ready to startle him but as she creeps up behind him, ready to jerk, she hears him say, "Sam," in that tone she uses if Ellie's doing something she has been told not to.

"How'd you..?" she asks, but doesn't even bother to finish the question; he works for the Air Force, has done black ops training. Still, he didn't at least pretend. She pouts, then braids her fingers into his – the ones who are impressively paint-less – and leads him away from the work.

He cooks her dinner; or, that is the intention. He has seen her cook before, even admitted that she has gotten better than she was during their SG-1 time – to which she sourly replied that cooking wasn't on her list of priorities then – but he still likes to blow her off her feet with delicious meals that often involve pasta, olive oil and garlic. Dishes that make her gasp and feel like she isn't a busybody. By now they join in, both taking part in the ritual of cooking. It is kind of odd that Ellie is not here, because she usually is, even when the trio cook together with disastrous and wondrous results, but it still feels right despite that guilty feeling in her gut that is pleased that Ellie is not here. She flutters her eyelashes playfully, chuckling as Jack lifts her up on the kitchen table and orders her to watch the pans and pots. Sam feels like a teenager again, like she is in college and watching her newest boyfriend cook for her. It is silly, because they're adults who have cooked thousand times before, even to each other, but the occasion and the atmosphere make it all special.

She sets the table for two while Jack finishes the preparing of the _ossobuco_ on the two plates, stealing a gaze at him; he too showered after painting, but not before cleaning up her mess. She finds that foolish, for him to think that she needs taking care of, but the thought is nice, considerate, and what woman does not like to be wooed?

Once they are done watching each other tenderly while eating lovely Italian food, they retire to the couch, zapping the channels until they settle for an episode of The Simpsons. Sam finds herself chuckling with her back against his chest, liking the soothing movements of circular patterns he is drawing on her thigh. Soon they forget about the lovable, dysfunctional, yellow cartoon characters, instead focusing on each other.

"This is nice," she lazily declares, exhaling deeply and drunk in the moment. The quiet, the niceness of it all. Like they're normal people.

Jack nuzzles into the back of her neck, tightening his loose grip on her waist in agreement. His breath on her skin sends shivers down her spine. "Yeah, it is."

Sam wiggles her hips around, awkwardly facing him before she places a soft kiss on his lips. Even though they have been together for a while, the action still feels so empowering, unlike the rush of anything she has experienced. How his body responds to hers, how hers responds to his, feelings only igniting a spark of what is already there. Trails of touches turn into the heated passion they are known for, eventually leading to a point where Sam must stop him – _them –_ to go to the bedroom, the couch too small and too narrow to continue where this is going.

Despite his knees, Jack still half-carries her, half-pushes her backwards unto the bed, their lips clinging to one another. Sam can still hear the faint noise from the commercial break on the TV, but the message becomes lost somewhere between the mind-blowing kisses she gets from Jack. Soon clothes are discarded, pants, gasps and blissful pleasure shared.

And damn her if she doesn't like collapsing on Jack O'Neill's chest, knowing she is privileged at hearing their heartbeats in sync. Falling asleep just is the slightest better when you have someone to fall asleep next to.

It tickles when Jack traces circles on her back, but it is a nice sensation. Lying on her stomach beside him, her blue eyes sparkle as she stares at him, the only light in the room the moonlight that is streaming through the french doors of her bedroom. She knows the same windows and door will awake them in the morning with merciless rays of sun, but for now they are a bit romantic. The lot of the house is still isolated enough to not feel uncomfortable lying naked with a window directed at you.

"I'm gonna miss this," Jack whispers almost sadly. She tenses a bit, but asks him the question with the same laziness and sluggishness.

"Miss?"

Jack sighs like he is the bearer of bad news. "I got the message Wednesday. Thought I'd tell you in person.."

"Well, it doesn't get more personal than this," she points out softly, kissing the skin on his forearm playfully. The antecubital fossa. It is where one gets taken blood from, and on Jack there are faint scars from many blood tests, but she likes that it is the only spot where he is ticklish.

"True. I'm going to be going off-world," he replies, making it sound like it is a grand admission.

"So?" Sam shoots back, not seeing why he's getting so serious.

Jack stares at the ceiling with an intensity like it has grown tails and wings. "I mean, long-term. Three months."

She finds herself dumbfounded. "Oh." She doesn't really know what to say; sure, they've been separated before, this is, for all intends and purposes, a long-distance relationship, and there have been times where he went off-world not knowing if he would be coming back or when, but a long-term assignment is something different. It means that no matter how often she is going to go to Stargate Command, she isn't going to catch a glimpse of him for _three months_!

"All of SG-1?" she finally asks, her body cold with realization. It is hard to keep on cuddling at this point.

"No, not all. Teal'c going to assist other teams and commute between the Free Jaffa and Earth. Vala and Daniel are probably coming, Sherwood's replaced by this Mitchel guy."

"Where are you going?" She knows it is not going to matter, but the danger assessment means something to her. She is getting protective; too used to having Jack for herself. Too used to playing house with a space-explorer.

"Supervising the establishment of a delta site."

"Delta site? All I heard have been alpha and beta sites. Even one gamma site, but a delta site –?"

"A new idea some higher-up had. A secure location with storages of medical supplies, weapons stash, meeting point between allies – that sorta thing," Jack absentmindedly explains; she knows that the details are unimportant to him. The time frame is not.

"Won't that be very risky? I mean, keeping the gate address to a minimum of allies..," she trails off, realizing she is ranting for no reason.

"It's gonna be hard," he states, his brown orbs finding hers.

"Ellie is going to miss you," she says, trailing her fingertips across his weathered face, noticing how close they've moved. The thought of not seeing him, not having him drop by and be a part of their lives for three months make her heart ache. Then she realizes the timing.

"This is goodbye, isn't it?" A sob is dangerously close to surfacing in her throat.

"Not officially, no," he answers solemnly, then softens his tone as he caresses her face and strokes her hair tenderly. "Go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning. I'll be here to say goodbye to Ellie. And it's a _see you later_, by the way."

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

A week later, the goodbyes are unexpectedly uneventful. Sam even receives clearance to get Ellie to say her goodbyes in front of the Stargate as the SG teams leave, but declines it. She and Ellie say their respective, private goodbyes in the backyard of their house. Ellie takes it well, which Sam attributes to her maturity, and it is a fairly tearless hug that signifies their farewell. Weeks later, Sam can still feel the brief kiss, Jack's lips on hers.

Suffice to say, she keeps busy. She misses him terribly, but focuses on her job. She gives a few lectures about astrophysics on nearby colleges, but spends time with Ellie as well. While she is a consultant paid by the Air Force, that does not mean they have her full-time. As long as she keeps her boundaries and more importantly, national security disclosure agreements, she is free to lecture on theoretical common-practice astrophysics. She has more spare time, often drives Ellie to her friends' houses, taking her daughter cheerful places, trying to distract her from the fact that Jack is absent.

By week three she is standing at the sink in her bathroom, knuckles white and lines marring her face. The mirror portrays a disheveled version of herself, one whose blue eyes are a bit hazy, the hair a little bit out of order, isn't it? The white porcelain sink is monstrously morbid next to her pale hands, filled with cuts and a paint stain she couldn't get off. She studies herself at noon, halting her daily routine to get a good look at herself. The long, blonde hair, set high on her scalp, hangs loosely and without enthusiasm. If hair had enthusiasm, that is. She looks sickly pale; maybe she is coming down with something.

Even the soft pink cardigan she is wearing looks dark. She ought to get herself checked. But that is not why she is here, why she is worrying. She bites her bottom lip bitterly and closes her eyes. For a moment she can pretend that she is not here; that she isn't flashing back eight years into the past; that she isn't painfully aware of how stupid this sounds and looks; that she isn't holding back sobs of frustration and confusion.

That she hasn't missed a period.

Denial is not just a river in Egypt. She has suspected for days, never really thought about it. It is hard to keep count of the days when she is as busy as she keeps herself, but she has written it in her calendar. And she cannot deny the fact that it so coincidentally happens that she is eight days late. Call it a mother's instinct, a woman's intuition, but she knows that buying a test will ultimately mean that she faces the problem. That she acknowledges the possibility of her being pregnant again. And bad timing is always a factor in her life. Sam Carter is a coward when it comes to that.

But, as so many other days in her past, she puts on a brave smile and endures it all. She puts on a layer of makeup to fix the haunted looks and the bony cheeks before driving to work at the office. Throbbingly, she vainly checks the side mirror to make certain that her civilian colleagues are going to believe the excuse that she went home during her lunch hour to grab some things she needed before picking up Ellie.

She thinks of Mark and Julie, and their little family. She thinks of Lisa, of David, and of Zach and Chris, the two-year-old twins. Of how Ellie and Reese and Davy always played when they were smaller. Reese being a tomboyish girl who live in the same neighborhood as David and Lisa. Then she nearly sobs twice when she thinks of all the time that has passed: Lisa is nearly a teenager! Cassie is in college! Her baby daughter is eight years old.

It is with great doubt that she buys the pregnancy test at the drug store before returning to her fellow professors at California State University, Sacramento.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

A mere handful of hours later she has returned to her home, picked up Ellie who is watching the _Lion King _for the umpteenth time this month. Giggles and snorts come from the living room and she is blissfully unaware of the emotional struggle her mother is having.

She cannot help being happy. Is that healthy? She knows it is no accurate test; it could be a false positive and she only bought one test. She glances at the bathroom door, knowing her daughter is sitting such out of sight, and then thinks of how she wasn't planned. And she turned out fine, despite the odds. Despite all the insecurities, Sam felt during her first pregnancy. Despite the chaotic timing, relations and cross-species genetic knowledge. Despite the fact that Sam killed her father to protect her.

Which she still does not know if Ellie knows about. She possesses the genetic knowledge of Martouf's symbiote, Lantash, from the moment of conception – a thought that makes Sam queasy – but somewhere along the way, she has stated that she knows her biological father is dead. Whether it is from seeing it with her own mind or from intuition, Sam cannot be sure. She isn't even sure if she wants to ask her daughter who she considers her father. Jack? Martouf? _Lantash?_ She certainly seemed to know it was him when she met Alaric, his host, four years ago.

This child will be normal. Not that Ellie isn't, no. Her and Jack have never discussed children. Elara has always been a gift beyond comparison, and she thinks that the Charlie ordeal has made Jack shy to the idea. They haven't been trying; yet here she is, looking at her positive pregnancy stick, her only sexual partner being Colonel Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force.

* * *

**A/N: **I was extremely displeased to realize that I got Sam pregnant (pre-Changing Priorities) before she could blow up a sun. (4x22: "Exodus") That would have made an awesome one-liner. Well.. Also, I wasn't going for a super sexy, dripping scene between Sam and Jack – I wanted to spare the few Sam/Martouf/Lantash shippers out there – but a way of stating the established relationship. They're not just doing the horizontal tango for entertainment purposes (to us, yeah, kinda) or out of need but because they're a couple. Get it? But don't worry – this? – won't last for long.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **A lot of "short ones" in this chapter, but I think it is significantly better than my last chapter. And thanks. Also, the riding may seem a little weird, but it's based on TV and how we do it at our equestrian school. Great place.

I threw in a little flashback for the reviewers on "Changing Priorities". There will be another one in the next chapter.

**Disclaimer: I cannot claim to own anything you may recognize from the Stargate franchise.**

* * *

**Chapter three of Changing Circumstances – **_dedicated to my best friend, Amanda, for whom the babysitter is named (also happening to honor Amanda Tapping)._

Dr. Cindy Laurel is the first doctor she makes an appointment with. While Janet wouldn't mind doing the blood tests, Sam wants to be sure before she informs her friend. Plus, there is the small downside of Jack being deployed off-world and she doesn't want pity, never took it well. So, therefore, Cindy Laurel, M.D.

At first glance, she is the direct opposite of Janet, her dark hair scooped away in a bun, tall frame hidden by the medical coat and regular exercise. She has obviously never been in the military – and Sam doesn't know why she needs to note that down – and enters the room at the clinic with a steadiness and oversight that Sam immediately admires. She does not look like a woman easily shaken. She is perhaps thirty-forty years old, wearing slacks and an appropriate blouse the color of crimson. A bold color choice, but it suits her green eyes and warm skin tone. She smiles, showing two rows of white teeth.

"And..," she looks down in her medical chart, "...Sam, what can I do for you?"

"Just a simple blood test." Sam tries to be as calm about it, but really, her heart is beating fast, her mind excited about the result. It is not like how she felt with Ellie; now she knows the signs of pregnancy on her own body, but has to remind herself that Dr. Laurel is a capable, competent, certified doctor.

"Anything particular we're looking for?" Laurel asks as she meets Sam's eyes, worriedly. She sits down at the table, sitting across from Sam.

"Heightened estrogen levels," she simply beams. At the startled look on Laurel's face, she explains: "I might be pregnant."

Laurel puts her cup of coffee down quietly. "Yeah, I know. I'm just surprised at your choice of words.. and your honesty. Did you take a home test?"

"Just one. It could be a false positive, so I wanted to be sure," Sam says trying to be casual. There is no casualness in this situation. She tries to keep herself from blushing, feeling like a teenager who forget the pill.

Laurel nods sympathetically. "Right, I'll do the blood tests and call you once I have the results, but if you don't mind me asking, why are you not seeing your own physician?"

Identifying it as mere curiosity and not general worry, Sam answers honestly. "She's a friend of mine. I didn't want to excite her about it if it turned out to be.. not."

Laurel, who has risen from her chair and gone to the cabinets for the equipment, says: "Oh.. don't stop on my part."

Sam has never felt squeamish about needles (that the Air Force and SG-1 taught her), so she continues the monologue like she does when she is nervous. She does make a grimace when the needle goes in. "She adores my daughter, so.. she'd love for me to have another one." Sam grins forcefully. "But the father – if I am pregnant – is deployed for another two months."

"Oh," Laurel says interestedly as she is done. "So, this won't be your first pregnancy? How old is your daughter?"

"She turned eight this year," Sam says, rubbing the sore spot, pressing down the cotton pad.

"Lovely age," the doctor comments. "Mine's ten and thirteen. Boys," she adds both fondly and sheepishly.

"My nephew's ten. And yeah, according to my brother, Ellie is at a good stage."

Laurel cringes playfully. "She adventurous yet?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. I'm picking her up from riding lessons this afternoon. I swear to god, I still can't get used to seeing her climb that big animal."

The doctor laughs, but resumes a serious expression. "It's something else when they're your own, right?"

Sam agrees; it is something else when they're your own. Laurel peels off the latex gloves and shakes her hand. "I'll call you. You want to come in or should I just call with the news?"

"Just call me. I don't want to busy your schedule, doctor."

Laurel smiles disapprovingly. "You can call me Cindy. Most of my patients do, and I don't see a reason not to, even if you are just using me as a test drive."

"Alright, Cindy. I look forward to receiving your call," Sam says.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x **

Three days later, Cindy calls. She catches Sam, who has managed to forget, off-guard and in the middle of a session of doing the dishes after a meal for Ellie's playdate with a girl named Michelle. She picks up the phone after promptly wiping her fingers with a nearby dishtowel.

"Yeah?" she says and quickly adds, thinking it is Michelle's anxious father. "It's Sam."

"_Sam, it's Cindy Laurel_," the doctor's voice sounds. Sam doesn't have to skim her brain to immediately recognize the name. The face of the kind doctor materializes in her mind. She smiles, but it is a smile, Cindy cannot see, and one half-tainted by a growing desire to know.

"Cindy."

"_Hi, Sam. I called because I have your results from the blood test. You sure you want the news via the phone? I could always..,_" she trails off.

"I'm sure," Sam confirms, glancing out the window where she can see Michelle and Ellie playing rapidly in the backyard. Who said boys had the most energy?

"_You suspected you were pregnant. According to your blood test, you are. Congratulations, Samantha_," Cindy tells her.

Sam sucks in a breath. It is one thing to consider this theoretically, like with her work, but in practice? Subconsciously, her hand caresses her stomach. To think that another child is there now is.. joyful. Having forgotten about Cindy and the phone, she returns to the conversation. "Thanks," she says, barely containing a beaming smile.

"_Of course I understand if you wish to take this to your friend who's a doctor, but if you wish, I can easily add you as a patient._"

Sam pauses. It is a nice offer, and she likes the gentle but firm doctor who is obviously experienced. And she isn't in the Air Force, which makes seeing Janet unnecessary, but ultimately, her answer becomes: "Can I call you back?"

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

"Mandy, are you sure you have everything down?" Sam asks almost anxiously.

The teenager nod assuringly. "Yes, miss Carter. I must keep my eyes on Ellie at all times. I understood."

Sam takes a moment to look at the teen. She was recommended by the Carsons who live down the street, and seems both competent and responsible. She is fifteen years old and it is a Saturday afternoon. What can go wrong? Still, Sam can't help but be nervous. She thought it was silly to call Mark and Julie, and she called to ask if any of the parents of Ellie's closest friends were available to squeeze in an extra kid for the afternoon, but in the end, it came down to Mandy. Flat-chested, brown-haired, plain Mandy. She is sweet, brought some homework if it got late, but seemed completely entranced by Ellie who thrives in the attention.

"Alright, then," Sam says, straightening her back as she fumbles her car keys. The green polo shirt from the college with the silver insignia makes her feel serious. She can't depend upon Andy and Alyson every time she needs someone to look after Ellie, even if they don't mind.

So she leaves, bracing herself to bring the news. Hours later, she walks down the corridors of the SGC, having checked with Bill Lee if she is needed on any projects. She has been getting more involved, more briefed since she revealed Ellie's existence and returned from Ba'al's clutches. Pakhet and their teamwork made him suffer a severe blow to his prominent position. She still remembers the fateful day where she got all the memories of Pakhet; even the memories she hadn't been able to access as a hostess.

_The agony and overwhelming were unbelievable, much like being thrown into cold water confused and alone. These things – thoughts, imprints and memories – overtook her physical body and she watched briefly as she saw the ceiling come before her eyes. Everything shook out of order, without comprehensible understanding. Images flashed before her inner eye, memories of places and people she had never met and never been. _

_She grabbed out and nearly collapsed into Lantash's arms, her body suddenly impossible to control. Was Pakhet taking over? If yes, why did she force her to watch consciously? She experienced pain, love, hurt, hatred, bitterness, attraction, repulsion ... - everything. She felt and understood everything. It was mind-blowing and shattering all the same. She cried out but whether or not it was heard by anyone else was beyond her comprehension. She lost feeling of her body, wondering if Pakhet did something she didn't want Sam to know._

_In the darkness that got supplied by memories of times passed, Sam cried out for her companion. She screamed and sobbed but only loneliness accompanied her. She felt a man yell for her – Alaric? Lantash? – but when Pakhet did not response, when no voice or feeling was met, she felt herself crumble with weakness. _

_Sensations blended together, imprints, feelings. She saw herself – or was it Pakhet? A host long dead? – stand before Ba'al, declaring her loyalty. As the heights changed – and the hosts – she felt grief, mourning or victory at each death. She felt fear and terror, immortalized victory and cruelty, thousands of years of memories that drove her insane, each memory too intense for her human brain._

_Mad with sensations, her physical body reacting to them, she fell into a wonderfully numb sleep as her brain overloaded in response._

_Alone._

Sam blinks to shake off the memory. While it is four years ago, it still haunts her. That moment of ultimate loneliness without a guide like Pakhet. She had actually grown used to the symbiote. When Pakhet had killed herself, Sam had been left confused and more lonely than ever. Lost, raw with grief, shouting in despair whenever somebody tried to understand. In the end, only Lantash remained at her bed with her permission. She struggled to understand and interpret the memories but without significance and context or leitmotif, the loss only deepened. And Lantash was the only one who understood the tearing of such bond.

By now she has accepted the symbiote's choice. Blinded by loss, she couldn't see reason in her companion's selfishness, but now she can easily determine that Pakhet's sacrifice gifted Sam with the ability to function, to be allowed back into society and not be whisked away at some underground, top-secret facility never to see Ellie again. It took a long time to understand and accept that. To have all Pakhet's memory in her didn't lessen the blow. Even today medication is a factor. Which is why she is here.

She drops by the infirmary after checking the scientist teams' progress. She is happy that she doesn't have to answer to Brian Malcolms anymore. He doesn't work in the SGC anymore, but whether he transferred to Area 51, quitted or was sent to Atlantis is beyond Sam's knowledge. And that says a lot. Then again, she doesn't spend much time in the SGC, mostly sending her work from Area 51 to Stargate Command.

A stray thought hits her: what now, with the baby being Jack's? She can't ask him to move to California with her and she certainly can't expect him to not be a part of her or his life. Does she think too much of him to think that he does want to be a part of the child's life? She doesn't know. But the way he looks at Ellie, the patience he has, makes her think that he'll want it. There are many things to be reconsidered when Jack comes back from the delta site.

She catches sight of Janet nearly instantly. The petite and fierce brunette is always a welcoming sight. Protective of all patients, considered a Napoleonic power monger by Jack, Janet Fraiser is a woman Sam is proud to call 'friend'. She was one of the first to rewelcome Sam and vigorously demand an apology from all members of SG-1 who had, whether intentional or not, ignored her and given her the cold shoulder for the better part of four years. She had ignored all attempts on Sam's part to explain that Sam had initiated the isolation, but wouldn't hear any of it. She is the better reason that they'd be able to celebrate Ellie's fourth birthday together; it was sort of an SG-1 reunion.

"Sam," the medical doctor says, smiling widely even as she is interrupted by her filing of charts and prescriptions. Her hair, nearly the same color as Ellie's, is collected in a bun, leaving strands of hair to have loosened on their own accords. She looks exhausted but also willing to help; that's Janet in a nutshell. "I didn't know you were here today. Isn't it late?"

"I could be saying the same to you," Sam replies, gesturing to the wall clock. She references to Cassie, Janet's teenage daughter. The doctor catches on quickly.

"Oh, I wish I had that distraction. No, Cassie is staying with some friends. Had I known..."

"It's fine, Janet. I was stopping by to actually see you," Sam reveals warmly, biting her lip. She is pretty sure that Janet will be happy for her. While she isn't showing yet, she must be nearly two months along; pregnant by the time Jack left. A check-up with Cindy Laurel sufficed that.

"Really?" Janet smiles. "You're not feeling ill, are you..?"

Sam quickly whiskers the worried expression away. "No, no, not at all. I'm here for something else."

"Alright," she says, placing her body against her small desk in her office. It is nearby the infirmary's beds and cots, so she can work on her paperwork without risking patients who need 24/7 care and medical watch. She looks suspicious, but Sam tries to phrase her request as un-cryptically as possible.

"I need you to take me off the suppressants." Janet's brows knit in confusion at the odd request.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Sam, seeing as we tried easing you off it two years ago. Not to belittle you, but I don't think your mind is ready to deal with thousands of years of memory yet. You'll need to be on medical leave to adjust..."

"I handled loads of memories when I hosted Pakhet," Sam points out. But that is not the point. "However, that's not why I want you to take me off the medication." God no, she remembers the brutal migraines and toll the memories had on her. She couldn't focus after three weeks with a clear, unmedicated mind. And it did annoy her that her mind held usable information. However, the costs were far greater than the results.

"Why then?" Janet sounds a little irritable, which Sam attests to long hours. She leans to one side to see four beds occupied by morphine-dosed SG personnel.

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh." Seconds pass and the expression on her friend's face changes. "Oh! Congratulations, Sam!"

The hug is mandatory. They wouldn't be them without it. "I can see why you'd wish to go off the suppressants, then, but I have to ask you, are you sure?"

"Yes." She nods affirmative.

"And you've seen a doctor about this?" Janet looks like she can barely contain a smile and be professional.

"Yeah, nothing big, it's just.." She pauses. "I'm nearly two months along, so I want to know if the suppressants could be harmful to.."

"Well, if you do think that it's worth it – I mean, last time the migraines were getting worse, and your focus, awfully testy, Sam –...," Janet reminds her, concerned like any friend would. She is still flustered with the idea of pregnancy.

"Pain relieving medicine is alright, no? And I could go on a medical leave like you said, if things go awry. I wasn't that hormonal last time."

Janet's shoulders fall. "I keep forgetting you've been around the block." She squeals girlishly. "I can't grasp that Ellie's getting a sibling! And this time I get to be there!"

Sam smiles. Janet gets serious. "However, your last pregnancy wasn't completely.. normal."

"Carrying a harcesis child without a symbiote to suppress. Yeah, I see why."  
"Then, have you considered that Pakhet's memories may act as the presence of a symbiote, terminating the child like in Sha're's case?"

Sam is aware, but hasn't considered it. Even for a harcesis child, Ellie's case is unique. Sam, a former hostess to Jolinar – who had nothing to do with Pakhet, although Jolinar's imprints are not nearly as strong in essence as Pakhet's – a Tok'ra. And the Tok'ra certainly don't believe in reproduction that way. But then again, how often does a normal person fall in love with a host and his symbiote? Unrecorded. Lantash and Martouf, also Tok'ra, which is why Ellie's intentions and genetic memory are thankfully benevolent and not tainted by selfish Goa'uld omniscience. Even though the circumstances were unique, her pregnancy was mostly normal. Anything that could've happened to a human woman on Earth whilst pregnant happened. Oh, and Jolinar's memories resurfaced. This pregnancy? Genetically normal. Well, once you don't factor in the fact that Jack is genetically altered by little grey men to be uncloneable, he has the Ancient gene few possess, and she has protein markers from her experiences as a host to multiple Goa'ulds (which is incorrect, given that Jolinar was technically Tok'ra and Sam considers Pakhet to be until her dying moments). Count in the many strange, off-world exposes and Sam's previous pregnancy.

Really just not something Sam considered. Which makes it rare.

"No, but I'm more afraid for what the suppressants will do. One thing is exposing the child to the remnants of Pakhet – which shouldn't happen, seeing as we're not linked telepathically – another is medically disturbing the fetus," Sam replies somewhat sarcastically.

"You're right. We'll try, but do I need to remind you of your past attempts to go clean?"

Sam nods, remembering. "But think about how the fetus would react to experimental drugs. _And,_ it took me a while to adjust to it."

Janet nods approvingly, then gets a devilishly mischievous smile on her face. "So... how're you gonna tell Jack?"

Sam chokes on air. "Who said Jack was the –." Then halting herself upon realizing how obvious it sounds. Who else could it be? She is not the sleeping around type.

Her best friend looks at her with a lazy 'do I really need to justify that?' expression. "Sam. Trips cross states twice or thrice a month? I hear from Cassie how often you go to the cabin, and how you act around each other. Cassie's a teen, she's not stupid. And I personally happen to sanction this relationship of yours." She smiles wickedly like she has plans, but Sam knows it is all teasing.

The blonde looks down in her lap and fumbles with her fingers. "I haven't told him yet. You know, with the delta site and all."

Janet sighs empathically. "I see. Aren't you allowed to send post and emails through? I mean, there are weekly check-ups.."

"I know. It's just, I mean how do you tell a guy that in a letter? '_How is the weather? Ellie is doing fine, she adores that pony she mentioned at the weekend, by the way, I'm pregnant again, it's yours'_?" Sam bites sarcastically and tearfully. Frustratedly.

"Oh, Sam," Janet says in a tone that she must practice when her teenage daughter comes home after a messy breakup. Sam admires that, the ability to function in situations like these. She has never seen Janet lose it. Damn those hormones. Janet hugs her. "But I might not use the 'again' part," she jokes and Sam smiles through snot.

She chuckles forcefully, then sighs. "No, I can wait. I don't want to force him or anything. I mean, I can't even begin to list the cons of this idea..!"

"Sam." Janet's voice is stern but goes soft instantly. "It won't matter. Because he loves you."

She feels her friend's hand tuck a hair behind her ear. God, she has missed talking to Janet, be it for fun, for real or for casualness. "And he loves Ellie, and when he gets back, it'll all fall into the right pieces of the puzzle."

Sensing too much seriousness, Sam jokes and sends Janet a strange look. "When did you get so wise?"

"I got a teenage daughter, I have to keep up the beat, what's your excuse?" Janet asks rhetorically and once again Sam wonders why she doesn't stop by more often. Then she remembers that she doesn't live in Colorado Springs, or in Jack's cabin as Ellie suggested the time they were there when she was five.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Weeks pass, turn into a month, and Sam contemplates long before she tells Ellie, who takes it surprisingly well, immediately beaming at the news of a little brother or sister. She rants lovingly on about her friends' smaller siblings and how Lisa had David, and how she was almost David's smaller sibling, but not really, and before she knows it, she has fallen asleep in the middle of an energetic effort to tell Sam of all the wonderful things there are to come. Coincidentally, Ellie falls asleep on the couch, leaned protectively against Sam's not-quite-showing stomach while Sam rubs her back tenderly, listening to Ellie's enthusiasm.

Her eyes get watery when she thinks of her daughter's gleeful reaction. She'd come up with at least a dozen ways that had resulted in a mad, destructive Ellie upon hearing the news that she'd be forced to share her existence with another child. She has even researched sites the web for advice in informing the firstborn of another child. Upon hearing the replies, she had closed the window and tried to shake the feeling and worst case scenarios out of her head. But Ellie, mature, delightful, angelic Ellie had taken it all with sisterly pride.

She has gotten off her suppressive medication, keeping it down to an absolute minimum before getting clean. She doesn't want any seizures to harm her unborn child. So far mild headaches and vivid dream-memories are all symptoms of withdrawal.

She still keeps active; well, not halting her non-work schedules. One day she finds herself driving to pick up Ellie from the riding lessons she is receiving. Like with everything else, she seems to be intuitive when it comes to something that is already in her memory. Lantash was – is – a great rider, so it shouldn't surprise Sam to see her daughter sit elegantly on the silver-coated pony. She walks quietly to the fence of the outdoors horse arena (although it feels more like waddling) and joins the other anxious and eager parents. There are both men and woman with the same worried expression on their faces, half-hidden in a bad attempt to stoically appear supportive and subconsciously competing with the other parents about whose child is the best.

Sam smiles, but realizes she, too, is holding back apparent worry. She turns her attention away from the parents, some leaning against the fence, others a bit more retreated and occupied with chewing nails and following their kid without blinking, crossing arms and impatiently pacing, to the arena. It is a pen-turned arena with white fence and dust rising as the ponies and horses trot in fellow movement. It takes her a while to identify her daughter amongst the children riders but once her eyes fall upon the girl with the honeydew-colored breeches and the helmet hiding most of her lovely hair, she can't ever imagine not recognizing her instantly.

Maybe she is biased, but the straight back and calm hands are not common in the arena. Two other kids are doing similarly, but most of the ponies and their riders are bumping lousily up and down, resulting in irregular tucks in the reins and riders similar to a bag of potatoes. She comments nothing of this, though, knowing how protective some parents are, denying any mistakes on their kid's part.

The instructor – a red-haired woman standing tall and shouting soft instructions to the line of equipages (a word Ellie taught her, apparently meaning rider and horse) – nods and corrects the riders, soon calling some into the centre of the arena before instructing the first group to slowly gallop. Sam watches breathtakingly as Ellie does as told and the pony-horse (isn't it a little tall to be a pony? It's certainly taller than most of the ponies, a small voice in her head says) listens, leaping into a calm gallop without racing. Of course neither of these things assures her and Sam keeps her breath held all three minutes of the galloping. When the instructor asks them to stop and exchange the places of group two, it goes somewhat smoothly.

The calmness and agility that seems to radiate off Ellie when she is in the saddle makes Sam think she was born there. Of course, having centuries of experience in her mind to adjust the gait and techniques immediately does help. Which makes her a little proud, seeing the semi-dismayed expressions of the parents of the kids yet to gallop. Accomplished rider. Even as she has putted her horse to a complete stop in the centre with six of the other ponies, Ellie looks intuitive.

Four older girls join the arena, sans horses, to help the smaller children – mostly girls – to gallop. Panting, they run beside the horses, at times grabbing the reins when a horse becomes too stubborn, but mostly it must be to assure nervous riders and their parents of its safety.

Once the session is over and the children's respective parents have joined their kids (who are the lest worried of the two), Sam goes to see Ellie but is stopped midway by a woman she doesn't immediately recognize. The red-haired instructor.

"Hi. You're Ellie's mom, am I right?" she asks smilingly. She obviously enjoys her job, and Sam can spot drops of sweat running down her temples. She has freckles and even though her hair has been tamed into a ponytail – pardon the pun – she looks charming. She is wiping her hands in her breeches – what else to wear in a place like this, in the middle of the whirlwind? – and has a pottle of water attached to a belt loop.

"Yeah," Sam confirms, not offering her hand to shake since the instructor makes to move to do it. She must've looked startled, because the woman grins.

"I'm Jenny."

"Sam."

Jenny nods like someone who is used to doing it when situational awkwardness rise. "Anyway, I just wanted to meet the mom of my star student. She is really gifted. A sweet girl, too."

Sam smiles. It is the same mantra she hears regularly from teachers of Ellie, but it is nice and good to hear from a more or less professional rider.

"I didn't want to move her to another group because she has friends here," Jenny says, gesturing to where Ellie and a girl from the group are laughing while grooming their ponies. "But I have another group on Tuesdays if she's interested. And if you are available to drive, of course," Jenny quickly adds. "I haven't mentioned it to her, you know how kids get all excited. And she doesn't have to switch groups. But, as I said, she's got talent."

Sam hesitates. "I'll think about it," she says, echoing her words to Cindy Laurel. "And talk to her about it."

"Great. Then I'll leave you to join your daughter over by Smokey."

* * *

**What did you think? I realized it's awfully similar, but I promise that action will happen in the next chapters. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I am feeling generous today. Both this and an all-new chapter of Forgive Me? Well..

This is for all you Sam/Lantash/(Martouf)/(Jolinar) shippers out there who have been waiting to torch me for the Sam/Jack shipping the latest chapters. I felt like I needed a proper, emotional goodbye not actually being a goodbye. I think it's very Martouf-ish, but we only got to see Lantash shine through in few episodes. My Lantash isn't as subtle, though, more blunt. And he probably still mourns for Jolinar, but is willing to see her mistakes. Anyway, the flashback is very much about Lantash/Sam.

**Disclaimer: I sadly cannot admit or claim to own anything even remotely recognizable as Stargate. The franchise is someone else's genius. Bastards – well, not for the creating/producing/directing/portraying part. Just the owning.**

* * *

**Changing Circumstances – part/chapter four**

* * *

_When we are no longer able to change a situation – we are challenged to change ourselves_ –** Viktor Frankl**

* * *

_She was slowly wakening. Carefully and drowsily, her movements echoed by headache and thunderous remnants of brain overload, Sam awoke with a massive bang. It took her minutes to confusedly recognize the infirmary for what it was. It was strange. She instructed her body to move, and it did, but it was slurred and speech didn't come to her as easily. Her groan nearly hurt as well._

"_Samantha," a worried voice said and her eyes shot to see Lantash by her side, standing alerted by her consciousness. "You fainted."_

_She looked at him and swallowed, trying to speak but the dryness in her throat and confusion was too much for her to use words. She hoped he understood. She watched as he interpreted the despair in her blue eyes, watched as his features softened and hardened at the same time. Felt his hand caress the side of her head, felt herself lean into the comfort as she mentally called out for Pakhet and received no answer but a hollow nothing. She leaned into Lantash's touch as she realized her companion was gone._

_Sobs followed. Rage and confusion followed suit. She cried as she felt the hollowness within, how her thoughts almost echoed in emptiness of her mind. She had never felt so horribly alone. _

_Lantash seemed to understand. He said nothing but was the only one she allowed close. She cried until she could no longer cry, till her tears were dry and nothing left but a ricocheting loneliness. She was so tired. Tired of crying, of the internal echoes and imprints left by Pakhet; Sam nearly snorted but found the action too raw for her throat. To think that a mere three weeks with a symbiote could have this kind of impact on her was ridiculous. Yet the feeling of abandonment stuck in her._

"_Sh-she's gone," Sam cried tearlessly into Lantash's chest. For hours she'd said nothing, just cried and sobbed ruthlessly without reason or explanation._

_His hand followed the line of her hair, now straightened by this repeated action. The waves from Pakhet's braid were gone, another painful reminder of her loss. "I thought so."_

_The tone wasn't a 'I told you so', but the tone of fellow loss, like he understood the situation and mourned for her. Sam realized that this must be like when host and symbiote were separated. Never before had she been closer to Lantash's loss over Martouf._

"_When a Tok'ra loses a host, we mourn for years. The bond between ones blended is remarkably beyond comparison. Pakhet's sacrifice was a noble one."_

_Sam, who couldn't see the noble in the action, only selfishness and abandonment, chose to listen to the first part os his words. "Was this how you felt when Martouf died?"_

_Lantash's body stiffened but his voice gave away no hostility. "It's... different for a symbiote. The loss is equally great on our part, but I imagine that the feeling of intensive loss and abandonment are the same. Martouf wasn't responsible for his death; neither was you to blame, but I watched and felt his last breaths. There is nothing more devastating but to feel your companion's demise. I think Pakhet tried to minimize that feeling but unsuccessfully. She _did _manage to not release the toxin, saving you." He looked at her adoringly. "And for that I am grateful."_

_Sam looked down, suddenly feeling weird in the arms of Lantash. While she had said her goodbyes honestly a mere few hours ago (or was it days?) it now felt like everything had changed._

"_I feel so.. alone," she admitted as she sat up in the hospital bed. The room blurred for a moment, but then it regained sharpness. She was dizzy but not enough to escape this conversation. Talking with Lantash was probably the closest she came to finding a fellow understander. _

"_It'll pass. I can't promise you, but bonds so freshly broken are hard to survive. Of the hosts who outlive their symbiotes, many find this feeling of loss and abandonment so intense."_

"_It hurts so bad, Lantash," Sam whispered, looking subtly around and seeing no people in sight. Then she remembered her cries of hurt, her demands at no-one touching her or coming close. Her agonizing screams._

"_Dal mek creon te shree tal'ma," Lantash solemnly stated, grief in his voice. Sam translated it to something like 'our love does not end in death'. She thought it was appropriate and yet ambiguous. They shared so many losses and reunions. Jolinar and Lantash and Martouf (and Rosha however briefly). Martouf and Sam and Lantash. Of a foursome only the two of them remained. Lantash and Sam, survivors of their respective tragedies. _

_Slowly, she said: "Elara."_

_She noticed his intake of breath at the mentioning of their daughter. He did not move or stiffen, but smiled forcefully. "She is with Colonel O'Neill and Dr. Fraiser."_

_Sam relaxed some, but still found her worry near. For the first time since awakening without Pakhet, she worried for someone else. Elara. Who the Tok'ra knew of. Although a voice in the back of her head screamed for reassurance, she knew that her team members – former or not – would not let anyone take her child away. She hoped._

"_I remember the night on Elaria. Martouf thought that you would find the stars amazing. He did always love stargazing more than traveling amongst the stars," Lantash said slowly._

"_Me too. I could never remember the name, but I guess I did. It suited Ellie." She retreated, mourning yet another loss. "I never knew you survived."_

"_The scientists of the Tok'ra fought long. Once I was able to retake a host, I took Alaric as my companion. But he is young," the symbiote told, nearly chuckling. Sam understood; young in lieu of the word primitive and naïve. Although Alaric looked no younger than Martouf, she knew that Lantash kept Martouf young and agile. It felt weird to think about him and those aspects after his death. _

"_I am glad that you survived, though," Sam admitted and exhaled. "You have seen Elara."_

"_She is beautiful, Samantha. More than Martouf and I could have ever hoped for. I never knew if you chose to continue the pregnancy. With the many dangers of SG-1 and the Goa'uld.."_

_He did not have to say much. She knew why his concerns were well-placed. "I quitted. For Elara. I kept it a secret until now. No-one knew. Now everyone does."_

"_It certainly explains the Colonel's reactions," Lantash noted. "And the secrecy of the Tok'ra."_

"_I cannot believe my father initiated this. To expose Elara to this madness! I never thought.. or perhaps I did," she shamefully admitted._

"_He did not know?" Lantash asked, genuinely surprised._

_She shook her head in reply. No, she had kept him out of the loop – although managed so under great secrecy – and told Mark never to say anything. This had been bound to happen, yet she found herself foolishly betrayed by the actions of Selmak and her father. Elara was no means or threat. She was a child, a three-year-old child with countless opportunities and potential futures. None of them would involve stargates, Sam had vowed that years ago when she birthed her. Why had her father not seen that? _

"_Elara is uncertain grounds. She is a true miracle, Samantha, and an oddity of this world. Do not hate him for his mistake," Lantash said in a very wise tone. She often forgot how old he was. How many losses had he not experienced? _

_She changed the subject. "Our time has passed, has it not?" With the eyes of a child, she looked up at him._

_He sighed hopelessly. "We each have matters to attend to. The bond between the Tok'ra and the Tau'ri will have taken a hit once this is over. Things change over time. I would hope for, but not expect, to leave on good terms?"_

_Sam nodded. "I want that, too." She felt weird speaking in I's and me's and not we's and ours. The longing for Pakhet's companionship resurfaced, stinging like something that would never heal properly. "That feels so weird. Me."_

"_You never spent enough time with Jolinar to realize the potential between host and symbiote. It would have been worse if you had spent more time with Pakhet. You two seemed very.. compatible."_

"_She was nice. Kind, honest. Like a friend," Sam contemplated, thinking about the times where Pakhet had respected her wishes. The slow-burning anger she felt had quieted. Still raw and fiery, she still remembered the times where Pakhet had offered sanctuary from hell._

"_Odd comparison, especially to a Goa'uld." Lantash paused and spoke before Sam could snicker a vice reply to that blasphemous statement. "But she was Tok'ra. In the end. Maybe she has been for decades, but to me, she is the essence of Tok'ra."_

"_Is?" Sam asked, noticing his choice of words. Lantash's eyes darkened respectfully, solemnly._

"_Some of her lives on in you, does it not?" he pointed out. "That is a gift, no curse. To overcome one's basic instincts must have taken great effort."_

"_I never considered her an enemy." Sam spoke slowly, lost in memory. "I hated her in the beginning. It was.. different, from when Jolinar..."_

"_What Jolinar did was never Tok'ra, Samantha, but forgive her. She had lost her way."_

"_I think I have. Forgiven her. I could never access her memories. Not without technology. But imprints, sure. With Pakhet, everything was so clear from the beginning. Intentions, feelings, sensations. She knew I had been host to Jolinar," she said._

"_It is true that when a symbiote enters a new host, the access is almost immediately. True in some cases; others take years to accept the new blending, Tok'ra as well. It depends upon the nature of the host. Trust needs to be earned. But it is truly extraordinary to hear you speak so softly of a forced blending. Your forgiveness is great, Samantha."_

"_I must've been hard on hear. I mean, with the experiences with Jolinar, I was hard on her. She felt it. The distrust, the loathing, the hatred of the situation. But I letted it go eventually. I think she forgave _me_," Sam admitted; she did a lot of that. She thought of how horribly rude she was to Pakhet. Brutal honesty was hurtful like that. _

"_It sounds like she was wise," Lantash said with an admiration; whether directed at Sam or at Pakhet, she was not aware._

"_A good person. Genuinely sorry for what she had done and complied with. She hid things from me, but she never deceived me. I expected her to."_

"_You two have blended very fast fairly quick. To present yourselves with such honesty and fellowship... I am not sure we would have been able after three weeks of blending," Lantash declared. _

"_Circumstances," Sam said bitterly. "In some aspects, she was as forced as I. Ba'al is.. cruel. In many ways, he is exactly what the Goa'uld stands for."_

"_I would not have accepted such a statement from you before. But given what you know now, you are no longer as... young.. as your fellow Tau'ri. But Ba'al is unusually cruel. He likes pain." Lantash looked at her almost sympathetically. He caressed her face casually. "I must ask you, how did you plan your escape? The re-modifications of the kara'kesh were brilliant."_

_Sam quickly explained Ba'al's last minute informing of his plans. "With Pakhet's knowledge of the device – I could never make it work on my own – and my knowledge of the components and their technical workings, we designed it to emit a pulse that made its weaponry beam through his personal shield."_

"_Impressive," Lantash acknowledged. "But you must rest. I have kept you up for too long."_

"_Wait," Sam whispered, feeling her powers reduce. "Will you be here when I wake up?"  
Lantash looked uncertain, but after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "I will try my best to be."_

"_Wait," Sam repeated, much to her own surprise. Her words were slurred. "... Can I meet Alaric?" Her eyes pleaded at him._

_He frowned in confusion, but lowered his head and let his new host resurface. Of course, she did not know how long they had been together, so new was all relative. When the young man looked up, the green eyes sparkled differently and Sam was able to tell the difference. Lantash had been right; Alaric did not yet possess the wisdom of experience and peace of mind that had defined Martouf. But, having the memories of Lantash and Martouf, he already knew that._

"_Alaric."_

_The young man before her responded to the name. He looked as if he had no idea what to say. Sam could sympathize. What did you say to your symbiote's former host's, your predecessor's, lover and the mother of said predecessor and symbiote's daughter? Sam had no clue. She could tell the difference in body language. Even though Lantash kept him calm, Alaric seemed edgy._

"_I don't bite. And it's as weird for me as it is to you," she said in what she hoped was her calm voice._

"_I know," Alaric said a bit too quick. "I can feel two people's love for you. Yet I have never met you. It feels like I have, though," he replied, managing to smile. Then his face darkened in grief. "I'm sorry for your loss."_

"_Pakhet lives on, as Lantash said. Hopefully, you will have many lifetimes to get to know Lantash. I passed him judgment when I first met him, seeing only him as an intruder to Martouf. But he is a really nice being. And I love him."_

_Alaric nodded. "It is strange," he admitted sheepishly. "Everything I encounter, Lantash has had some sort of experience and tells me to calm down because he has seen it before. But this," Alaric smiled, "is even strange to Lantash. In a good way. He has never letted me know about you and him. Martouf's memories are something I don't know about. Periods of mourning. My people respect that."_

_Sam felt content knowing that no matter how alone Lantash would be in future assignments, he would be accompanied with Alaric, who seemed to be a great person. A little young, a little eager, like all recruits. He held potential. He was no Martouf, but she felt safe letting him go to a person like Alaric. "Then farewell, Alaric."_

Sam awakes with a jerk from the trip down memory lane. She looks around and assesses that she must have slumbered off. It happens occasionally. Her back aches when she turns and she cringes but gives herself a few minutes to think about that day four years ago.

She remembers that raw feeling of abandonment and isolation. Much after is pretty much pain because of the experimental trials on her suppressants, which she has now been clean off for two weeks. None of the more violent memories have returned, but this memory is more clear to her than it was before the pregnancy and the off-medication period. It is one of her more fonder memories, even though it involves loss, pain, hurt and abandonment. She doesn't know why she has made that memory surface. While she misses Jack – for reasons unmentioned – she is neither betrayed or lonely. She keeps busy with day-to-day tasks, like driving Ellie to and from school and her Friday riding lessons. Sam has made herself a promise to be more open to the idea of Ellie riding permanently.

Ellie has told her much about riding. Only yesterday did it occur to Sam that some on the experiences may be otherworldly in origin. While initially shrugging it off as how circumstances are, she now wonders if she should keep a more open policy about Ellie's memories from Lantash. Huh. Maybe that has been what triggered the memory. Despite it being what brought them together, Lantash and her never spoke of what would happen about Ellie's memories. It has, however, been discussed on a national level. To allow Ellie to go to a normal school with clearance-less parents? Could the Air Force and the Stargate Program afford such a risk? Sam had been both relieved and concerned when they agreed and approved to sending Ellie to a public school. It has been Jack's casual attitude towards it and his argumentative responses towards the idea that had finally convinced her. Besides, Ellie knew it would be disastrous if she told anyone. Smart kid.

With this new child – a boy – comes new opportunities. She has already planned how to inform Jack, somewhat. She is starting to show a little bit. She is looking forward to his return in two weeks' time. She is anxious for things to return to normal. She likes having Jack around, and she wants to have made a decision for living arrangements before the baby arrives. About that she has wondered too. Janet has flown in once to check up on her, them agreeing for her not to come to the SGC until she has told Jack. Worst case scenario is somebody slipping up to Jack, evoking a feeling of deceit. Jack hates being lied to. Keeping secrets around him is not a wise idea, but the situation calls for it. She has monthly appointments with Dr. Laurel, who has taken a fondness to Ellie when Sam brought her along. She is already telling all her friends about "Ronnie".

Sam smiles restrained at the memory. While she is waiting to name the child officially, Ellie has asked what to call him. Initially sated with 'baby brother', she soon came back and demanded for the unborn child to have some sort of name. She gave her time to think, but Sam could only come up with one name that would do the child justice. Uncomfortable with 'Charlie', she went for 'Aaron'. Now shortened to Ronnie, it still signifies her father. Jacob Aaron Carter.

She doesn't want to think about the damage her father has done to their relationship, but figures that it is time to bury the hatchet. While she won't see her father for maybe another year, him having retracted from Mark's life as well as a means to respect her wishes, naming her child after him somewhat (Jake being too similar to Jack) will show him that she wants him back in her life. Their lives.

She swallows at the recent memory. Boy, did Mark freak out when she told him of her pregnancy. She strokes her stomach tenderly when she relives the incident. After knuckling his fists and clenching his jaw repeatedly, he went on to congratulate her, disapprovingly asking if the father was Jack. When she nodded, he eased up, accepting it. Julie was far more thrilled, immediately handing out advice; she did remember having the twins. Sam did too, not being able to phantom that her godsons were already two years old. Aaron will follow into Ellie's footsteps, being two years junior to Julie and Mark's boys. At least he will have someone to play with at family gatherings. By then the twins will probably tire of each other. Not that she hopes so; no. Like with Lisa, Ellie and Davy, she hopes that the threesome will play joyously and forget time. Mark has been doing modifications to their treehouse, and even though it will be a while before their kids will be able to play there, Davy still bringing some of his friends there, it will serve fine when time and need come.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

With routinely practiced movements, he prepares for his next chappa-ai travel. Every time he meets new people, he has to remind himself that not all are as accustomed to traveling through the round device as regularly as him. It is a means of transport, no stranger than the tel'taks and al'keshes at their disposals.

Yet this trip excites him. As any to said destination do, but this in particular is important to him on a personal matter. Not only will he be traveling lightly and with great news, but also welcomed and catch a glimpse of the one he cares for the most.

_You are a romantic whether you admit to or not_, Alaric reminds him, amusement clear in his voice. But like everyone would, he has taken a fondness to Samantha as well. He does not feel the same level of love towards her as Lantash and Martouf did, nor does to claim to understand the strange relation, but he is less clueless with each visit.

_I admire her. Her bravery, her choices when she could have left it as it was, _Alaric argued in an attempt to be clean of his influence.

_Samantha is a great being. _

_You have a child with her. Surely your bias is to be taken into consideration_, Alaric reminds him yet again but adds a feeling of lightness. He sighs. _But you are right. She is a wonderful person. Capable of great many things._

Lantash nods mentally as he gathers his things. He has spent nearly a week on this facility and it would normally drive him mad with boredom, but events have been happening that have brought new fulfillment to him. For once, Alaric understands the reason.

Lantash sees a lot of himself, as a young aspirant Tok'ra, in Alaric. His eagerness to missions of more action and danger rather than submission and long months spent looking for a weakness. Admittedly, he recognizes the young mind of someone who has not seen love and thinks of it so blithely. Even with his long memories – which he has complained sharing with one other individual – Alaric is himself. His own person with his own personality. The longer one is blended, the more blending seems to occur. Seeing as he has been with Alaric for only six of Samantha's years, they have lot to learn about each other. Alaric understands this and they both admire one another and the companionship between them is appreciated. Alaric may look like a farmer, but he has a warrior's spirit. One illy equipped within the Tok'ra, but often squeezed into rightful places.

_You are not all I have to share, _his host says after a long period of individual thought. Lantash searches their conversation for any relation to what he is saying. Then he remembers his quick remark about Alaric complaining about having to share his collective memory.

_Elara has my memory until the time of her conception, meaning that of Martouf as well. Are you really that hurt to be held from it?_

Alaric sighs mentally. _No, I just.. wonder. None of these hosts have children. None of these symbiotes have offspring. Few of us have mates. You are the single person who would understand and you keep what Martouf left you a secret._

Lantash has seen the way Alaric looks at Jeia, another host, when he thinks the symbiote is not paying attention. He knows that mating would do Alaric good and that Jeia's symbiote, Pyra, is openminded. His reluctance is foolish; Martouf was actually the one acting on Lantash's feelings for Jolinar and therefore, his input was often appreciated by her. Jolinar – and the relationship between Rosha and Martouf – changed Lantash, quieted his warrior spirit. He knows that while the subject is Ellie and her inherited genetic memory, the ulterior motive is Jeia.

_I understand; you wonder how she responds to the same memories? _Lantash asks, finding it odd and refreshing.

_Exactly. Maybe she is better at it. More like you_, Alaric points out.

_I can't imagine, _Lantash chuckles. _After all, she may be more like Samantha. She raised her, after all._

Alaric shares his smile and fatherly pride. _And that you wouldn't mind._

Returning to his preparation, Lantash does another round of patrolling the secret genetic research facility on Celthria, a moon in a rarely frequented solar system. It has no stargate, but like on Netu, there are ring transport stations that allow travelers to be ringed down to the primitive planet and activate the chappa-ai. As he said previously, they have been there for a week and ache for another adventure. Lantash personally knows that the High Council have a mission in mind once he returns, but for now, he is excited to bring the news about Martouf's medical revival to Samantha.

* * *

**A/N: I did as a reviewer mentioned in "Changing Priorities", reviving Martouf. Can you find the hint about the last piece connecting it to the previous story?**

**I admit, this is a shippy chapter and not the way insinuated. I mean, how much romance can a pregnant Sam sans Jack have? I found out I liked writing Lantash/Alaric. It's amusing. Like a bromance. **


	5. Chapter 5

****_Updated this._

**A/N: **I had a tremendous amount of difficulty in writing this. Everything in it, especially since I feel the need to vilify just about every ally the SGC has ever had.

I don't know much about cooking, so if there are any hardcore chefs and cooks out there, don't be enraged by my descriptions of cooking. Keep in mind that english isn't my first language and most of this is self-taught.

**Disclaimer: I can't even begin to claim to own anything you may recognize as a part of the Stargate franchise. Sadly, no, not me.**

* * *

**Changing Circumstances – chapter five**

Despite all the stargate activations he has experienced while being the supervising commander of the delta site, Colonel Jack O'Neill still looks up, alerted when the gate begins to dial a sequence on its own. An incoming wormhole, a post on the site confirms, but the Colonel is close enough to recognize the symbols as yet another contact from Earth. Unscheduled, he notes mentally with knitted brows. Even after identifying the address, he makes sure to be armed with a P90, just in case, as the team of soldiers posted at the gate readies for a transmission.

He has to admit, the delta site is different from any alpha or beta sites he has been to. Different in the capacity that it is not built like a fortress to be defended, but rather as separate stations of food supplies, weapons supplies, medical supplies – supplies in general. Even then, this job is making the Colonel go all sorts of crazy. He misses going on more dangerous missions, he misses Earth, he misses the SGC.. he misses Sam – and Ellie. When he got the assignment, he figured it was out of spite; some politician he'd pissed off too many times. But then Landry assured him that it was to see how he'd handle leadership when suspended on one planet. A month into this slight vacation, Mitchel had been given command of SG-1 to tour the galaxy. With the thought of Sam and Ellie in mind, the Colonel wasn't as displeased as he could have been, sensing his being retired. Mitchel is smart, and with Teal'c, Daniel and Vala he will know the galaxy in no time. Ryan Sherwood – newly promoted Major – had joined this expedition of sorts.

There are nothing bad with the delta site. Far less scientists, just enough for the Colonel to handle on a good day. Things are slow, shipments and records-keeping the more boring aspects. A visit from some allies is the closest thing he has been to sensing tension. And it was more of a natural suspicion towards new ideas. Anyhow, the Colonel now knows every man on site, even having dubbed a nick name or two. And he knows who brought a desk of cards. The lucky thing about being in charge.

There are a few men he would like to see off-base someday, but mostly he has tired of the company. He misses being on SG-1, or any SG team for that matter. The action, the fun, the humor. Nobody seems to get his here. They chuckle uncomfortably, and that sure isn't the intention. And maybe he is a daredevil, but he certainly isn't suited for the boring lifestyle being on charge on a delta site offers.

The dialing has stopped and creates a stable wormhole. He knows the technicalities, but he can't say it doesn't look beautiful when that whirl of water splashes out only to retreat again. He looks at Yates, the person who normally tests for a receiving code – they haven't got an iris, but _shoot on sight _isn't a concept to be taken lightly. When he nods and signals the okay to the Colonel, men with the P90s lower their weapons as one single person steps through.

The Colonel doesn't immediately recognize him, but knows that he works at the SGC. A pang of jealousy shoots through him but he puts it aside. Whoever he is, he has not come to rub it in. By now it has been nearly three months since Jack was on Earth.

"Colonel O'Neill," he greets once he steps down from the small podium. The wormhole closes after him.

"That'd be me," he says and studies the brown-haired, BDU-dressed newcomer. He is obviously air force – says so on his uniform. The soldiers with P90s retreat once the threat is over, casually going back to their posts. He pretends not to notice the curious gazes they send his way.

"Captain Henderson, sir!" the newcomer declares. "I'm here in General Landry's stead with an urgent message demanding your return to Earth, sir!"

"Really? What's this about?"

The captain hands him a note and states: "I was to say that Major Ryan Sherwood is to be shortly placed in charge – temporarily," Henderson adds hesitantly. His over-eager attitude fails to be obedient.

The Colonel reads the note, written in Landry's handwriting obviously rapidly, stating something that makes Jack sick to his stomach. He nods to Henderson and radioes Ryan, telling him of his newest accomplishment as head of the delta site. Startled, Ryan accepts and Jack nods to Yates, who begins to dial Earth.

And as he steps through the stargate, he wonders how the hell Sam got involved with Jaffa when she is supposed to be in California.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

_Twenty hours earlier_

Sam winces as she grazes her wrist on the hot hobs, nearly cursing in pain. She makes a beeline for the sink, running cold water and holding her wrist in it. She lets out a sigh of relief as the pain eases. Even though she has been reading in the living room, Ellie magically appears in the doorway to the kitchen, her eyes and expression concerned.

"Mom, are you okay?" she asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I burned myself," Sam admits, feeling the cool water dampen the pain. Ellie frowns and steps closer, inspecting the pots.

"What're you doing?" her daughter questions curiously, putting the forgotten book on the kitchen table before hopping up and sitting on the table. Her long hair lingers above the pot like cinnamon steam. When she looks up at her mother, her pale bluish eyes shine analytically at her. The expression startles her, reminding Sam so much of how Martouf would look at her like she was a never-ending enigma he enjoyed unraveling.

"Er, cooking. Daniel and Vala are coming over, remember?" she reminds her daughter, examining the angry red mark left by the heat. She turns off the faucet as Ellie stirs the contents of the pot with the spatula.

"Oh," Ellie says, recalling the conversation. She smiles, and Sam knows why; Vala and Daniel are some of the people she can discuss and impress with her knowledge of the societies beyond the stars. Even now she likes attention, likes to get praised for work well done, but keeps it humble, and Sam has caught her daughter making intentional mistakes when playing and talking to her friends from school. While she should be worried, she remembers a time when she was considered weird for being smart and made herself sound dumber than she was to be socially accepted. She cannot scold her daughter for being so wise to have figured out a way to belong. Besides, when she rides she can always pretend that she is a natural.

How Ellie interprets her memories are beyond Sam, who still has trouble separating her and Pakhet's memories. She has never voiced any concerns about it, Ellie having stopped drawing the memories once she was old enough to understand the severity of the situation. Sam suspects that she likes the idea of being special; even if she can't tell anybody but personnel of Stargate Command.

Sam has invited them for dinner because she misses them, of course, but also to hear about how Jack was when they saw him, and hear about the new SG-1. She has met Cameron Mitchel once, and he seems like a nice guy, but she is in no position to be deciding whether or not he is competent for leading the flagship team. She doesn't know what to think of Vala yet, but has on occasion appreciated her blunt ways. She keeps a fire to Daniel that Sam hasn't seen since Sha're.

Ellie joins their cooking and only when Sam instructs her to go clean her play space and change clothes does she leave Sam's side. Sam finds herself bumping into the drawers more often than before and attributes it to her pregnancy. She is advancing without complications, which can only be taken well. She has been relieved to find out that even though this pregnancy is her second, it follows the same path as her first. She has had relatively no morning sickness and aside from mild migraines (attributed to the lack of suppressants and her body adapting to its new state), she has been able to keep up with Ellie's schedules. She has had more time to spend with Ellie and taken some burden off Andy and Alyson. Actually Ellie and Sam have babysat Bree once, so Andy and his girlfriend could go and have some time without "the child". Ellie is great with the beagle, and has taken more responsibilities on her shoulders since Sam informed her of Aaron, despite never having been told.

When Ellie returns minutes later, she offers to watch the pots and pans while Sam herself go change. Reluctantly, Sam goes, having showered this afternoon, changing into a pair of new jeans – she has trouble fitting her old ones by now – and a loose-fitting navy top accompanied by a light-grey cardigan. She throws a hairbrush through her long hair and eyes the stack of papers that need to be graded before next week. She puts her feet into a pair of recently acquired ballerinas, which spares her back immensely. So far she has only told a handful of people about her condition, Ellie being one of them and sworn to secrecy. Then there's Mark and Julie, Janet and Dr. Laurel.. Vala and Daniel are not on the list. Maybe she will tell them tonight.

When they arrive, she greets them warmly, hugging them both and Ellie immediately goes on to talk with Vala about relics and mythology while Daniel retreats to the kitchen with Sam.

"So, .. you guys looking forward to Jack's homecoming?" he asks casually while fidgeting with his glasses.

Sam bites her bottom lip while she stirs the pot. "Yeah. It's been a long three months. But it's okay, I understand that he is still with the program. I accept it."

"But you miss him," he interprets matter-of-factly. Letting go of the subject, he glances through the door towards Vala and Ellie. "It's so weird. You, Jack, the new SG-1 team. There was a time where I couldn't phantom that we'd be separated."

"Life has a way of throwing things off course, Daniel," Sam states with a smile as she lifts the pot from the stove. The delicious smell of pasta reaches her nostrils instantly once she sieves the _cavatappi_. The sauce with small pieces of spiced chicken is soon to be ready.

"Definitely in our line of business," Daniel comments, fishing one of the twisted pastas into his mouth. He sends her a sheepish expression. "Jack told me to do that."

"He always does," Sam confirms. Knowing the table is set – thanks to an eager Ellie, – she focuses on the last of the cooking. "How are you and Vala doing?"

At his quizzical expression, it is clear that he doesn't know what she is referring to. "You mean Landry's deal with how I have to keep eyes on her? We've had a few mishaps, but she is getting there. You know non-military," he grins.

Sam nods, knowing that she shouldn't pry into the romantic aspects of Daniel's life. He will get there soon enough; she is just worried that, as he said, in their line of business, time will be cut short. "Could you open the red wine? It needs to ventilate. There's a decanter on that shelf if you don't mind."

"I don't," the archeologist declares while he does as told. Sam knows it is bold serving wine when she cannot drink any herself, but admits that it would be even more suspicious to serve no wine at all. She has kept her intake of alcohol low since she quitted SG-1, no longer being required to taste off-world brews to prove her worth or for political reasons. She occasionally enjoys a good wine, but hasn't found the lack of it hard.

The small plop tells her that it is opened, followed by the sound of liquid filling the decanter. She tends to the last pot with the sauce before going to prepare a salad with rich lettuce and peanuts and berries. It is one of the few Ellie likes, so even if it is a little off-put, she is certain Daniel will understand. As beverages for Ellie and herself, she has a second decanter with carbonated water and three cans of soda, in case.

The evening goes well and dinner is popular. When Vala and Daniel depart, Ellie has already fallen asleep on the couch and Daniel has carried her to bed with Vala sending him a wicked smile with benign intentions. Sam pretends not to see the way Daniel studies her movements, assessing something. So when Vala has hugged Sam goodbye and gone to the car (with a warning from Daniel to wait), he steps back into her personal space, placing a light kiss on her forehead, before saying, "Jack is going to be proud, Sam."

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Sam has trouble falling asleep that night, trying to determine whether or not it is that obvious that she is pregnant. Daniel made no fuss about it, but merely congratulated her in his own, subtle way not to rise suspicion. One of Pakhet's memories hit her when she thinks of the care, Daniel radiates. The sensory impact is mild, because she knows immediately where and when she is, recognizing that fateful day she and Pakhet escaped Ba'al clutches, wounding him in the process. The sensations are as clear as day, the wind against her face so vivid. She remembers his shocked expression and his instinctual protection of that negotiator – Mia Hernandez. She chuckles in her semi-sleep. Daniel has always been attractive to females, but finds their attention odd and misplaced.

When she finally falls asleep, it is into a vivid dream of people and impressions, omens and dragon-like creatures resembling giant Goa'uld symbiotes.

She awakes suddenly in the middle of the night. The room is dark, swallowed by darkness of night, but the digital clock next to her says 3:04 AM. Frowning at her sudden awakening, she listens for a while to seemingly nothing, wondering what the hell jerked her from her slumberous sleep. Just as she is about to return to sleep, she hears the slightest noise – and it is not natural; it is the sound of somebody not familiar with the layout of the house bumping into a kitchen drawer, its silverware quivering in response. Sam has made the mistake at least ten times today, by now totally familiar with the noise. But even if Ellie is coming down for a glass of water or milk, she knows the layout of the kitchen. Inhaling sharply, Sam gets out of bed, throwing the blankets aside and sneaking downstairs, hopefully quiet.

Is it an intruder? Jack has made her promise never to keep a gun in the house, so her immediate response is to grab the aluminum softball bat she keeps in her closet. It is a gift from Mark when she moved in. Right now, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she cannot recall the joke he made about it, but she tries to overhear her own fast heartbeat and hazy breath. The imagery of her must be funny as hell, but she is alerted, trying to listen for footsteps. Should she go to Ellie's room first? No, no reason to freak her daughter out if it's a stray cat or the wind. She doesn't think it's that, but wouldn't mind it.

Armed with the bat and the knowledge of how to do harm, she sneaks downstairs, holding her breath. Shadows are everywhere, mostly inanimate, but at the right turn of the living room, she sees something moving. Pushing herself against the wall and freezing, she tries to make out the silhouettes. To her astonishment, she identifies the gleam from staff weapons and armor. Jaffa? What the hell are Jaffa doing here? Her theory about coincidences flies out the window as she realizes with a cold, sweaty sensation that they must be here for Ellie or her. Should she attempt to move upstairs? And do what, a particularly snarky voice inside her head asks. She vaguely recalls plan B for evacuating them, but then realization hits. The remote activator for the locating beacon is in the drawer _in the living room currently occupied by Jaffa. _From the looks of it, five, all armed and apparently not of the Free Nation.

Plan B was created four years ago. Seeing as she is a citizen of Earth, the Stargate Program decided that Elara might be a valuable future asset worth protection. Therefore, both she and Sam have been injected with locating beacons activated by a small device she has kept hidden from curious partgoers and never used. It will sent a subspace signal to the _Nephelai, _an interstellar cruiser capable of planetary defense. It is hidden in Earth's orbit, Earth being its primary concern and having beaming technology. Not even in the same class as _Prometheus _and the _Daedalus_, it is still capable of kicking butts.

Which helps nothing right now. Sam readies herself for action as the Jaffa come closer to the stairs, obviously intending to head for their bedrooms. Texting Daniel won't help, but she quickly sends a text to the SGC, hoping it will help. It is short and ridiculously lacking of actual message besides the _Jaffa in my house – Sam Carter_, but it will have to do. She grits her teeth and raises the bat before she bluntly hits one Jaffa over the head. He drops unconscious immediately, and Sam doesn't have the time to be surprised at her efficiency before his buddies have discovered that they're not alone. Weapons fire break out and Sam falls back, nearly crashing into the shelves as she retreats. The Jaffa on the floor has dropped his staff weapon, but she is in no condition to be quick enough to grab it without getting hit.

Once they realize she will not be in range, they move aggressively in, firing upon sight on a shadow moving. Her grip on the handle of the bat becomes sweaty, but she tries to hide herself enough to whack one of them over the head. She succeeds once, smacking the second Jaffa over the head, but then feels the end of a staff being pressed down her spine. She is pushed to her feet and landing awkwardly, she expects a quick execution, but the Jaffa whose staff weapon is currently pressed to her throat shouts orders in Goa'uld to the two remaining Jaffa. His forehead gleams and Sam grows nauseous to identify gold in his forehead. A First Prime. Obviously loyal, maybe rogue, but definitely out to get her. She whimpers involuntary as she is hit on her with the blunt end of the weapon, smacking her backwards. Something cracks and the world goes out of phase for a second, but it is enough for the First Prime to get the upper hand. Another Jaffa storms up the stairs and Sam cries out in rage, trying to fight free from the stoic hold on her shoulder. Mercilessly, the First Prime shouts to the remaining Jaffa, who is waking the other two, and Sam's slurred brain translates the krees to something like get ready.

"Kel Harcesis?" the Prime asks, bending down her her level. She doesn't have to remember Pakhet's lessons to translate _where is the harcesis_.

Flippantly, she replies: "Tel kol?" _I beg your pardon?_

The action of flippancy costs her a black eye and a kick to her torso. She cries out, no longer accustomed to pain. The First Prime pulls her up by the hair – pretty indignant for a Jaffa – and she spits out blood on him. Rapid Goa'uld flows from his mouth and before she can blink, kicks and fists come from everywhere, the First Prime's grip on her arms not loosening, merely restraining her, leaving her face and body defenseless and unprotected. She curses at the honor of the Jaffa and tries to catch a glimpse of their god's symbol. She gets it, even in the darkness, but blood drips from he temple, into her left eye and the right eye is too swelled to look out. It hurts over her body. One boot hits her knees, sending the bone singing for salvation, another steps on her wrist, a staff weapon is jabbed against her hip (but evoking no crack), and it is a merciless treatment. She shouts and screams out words in Goa'uld, random and intentional till she cannot focus no longer. Her thoughts echo in pain, every inch of skin so tenderly hurt that she cries out and passes out just as she sees one of the Jaffa manhandling Ellie.

She crawls away, but another whack with the staff weapon hits her on her back. She collapses, but looks up at the First Prime, fury burning in her eyes, the worst insults she can come up with directed at him. Why has he not used his staff weapon? In her condition, a single shot would end her life. Her assailants retreat, barely glancing her way, but the First Prime keeps his weapon against her throat. Behind her, he shouts out to one of his Jaffa, who steps forward, handing him something the size of a handgun. Sam eyes Ellie, who is fiercely struggling against the Jaffa's hold, using the common girlish techniques and trained moves, but coming up nowhere. One Jaffa lies dead on the floor, apparently not having survived the massive whack with the bat. Sam tries to come up with some brilliant way of saving them, even in her fragile state, but all she can see is the terror and horror in Ellie's eyes as they find one another in the dark room.

"Ellie! Sweetheart, don't be afraid..!" Sam exclaims, but the First Prime aims the object handed to him – a zat, she realizes with scorn on her face – on Ellie, shooting once and Sam watches helplessly as her daughter goes limp in the arms of a stranger with no good intentions.

"Please," Sam begs, her defense weak. "She's my daughter.. my child.. _kal'ma_," she cries, her body too weak to move. Too battered and beaten, yet she crawls on, her legs dragged behind her. She prays for mercy but once she looks at the stone-cold expression of the Jaffa, she realizes nothing short of a miracle will get them out of this. The last thing she sees is the serpentine barrel of the zat before she falls unconscious into a blissful numbness.

* * *

**A/N: **Totally un-betaed, how did you like it? Consequences will happen in next chapter, but I expect a few horrified reviews or comments. I'd like to hear precisely what you liked, what you hated, did you expect it or what? Then _maybe _I can write another chapter before going off-computer for the next seven days as I am going on a camp.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I re-uploaded chapter five with minor changes that bothered me. I'm totally exhausted after five days of horseback riding multiple times a day and dealing with kids. I'm sore all over. Anyway, this is the last actual chapter of "Changing Circumstances", mostly because I think the last should be considered an epilogue.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything in the Stargate franchise.

* * *

**Changing Circumstances – chapter six**

* * *

_Everything can be taken from a man or a woman but one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances_ – **Viktor Frankl**

* * *

"_Now you take good care of your mom, right? I'll be back in no time."_

"_Of course."_

_The two hug, the sort of hug between relatives and people who truly care about each other. His voice gets gravelly like he is holding back manly tears. He tousles her hair and smiles._

"_Be good, Ellie."_

"_I will miss you, Jack."_

_He looks at her, his foster child (as good as) and smiles nonchalantly. "Yeah, me too."_

* * *

"Where is she? I demand to see her, she's –."

The petite doctor stares shocked at the stretcher before her eyes, the paramedics who flew across the country with her having backed off once they heard the threat in Janet Fraiser's voice. _Oh God. _Fearing the worst and being shocked beyond imagination is a thing she would not wish on her worst enemy. Perhaps the ones who did this to her best friend. Swallowing throatily, she tries to remain calm and stoic and professional when all that goes through her head is _how did she survive this?_

The smiling Sam, who she rendezvoused with just last week, is lying, covered in tubes and medical equipment and returning paramedics following her instructions, awaiting orders.

Janet acts quickly, like she always does, but she cringes every time she catches a glimpse of blonde hair or Sam's unconscious face. Medical terminology flows from her mouth, and her mind operates with speediness previously unrivaled while the more private person in her worries not only for Sam's physical state but her mental one. The baby is a secondary concern, as much as she hates to admit it after weeks of girlfriendly talks and chit-chatter with Sam about it. _Not it_, she corrects herself, forcing back tears that threaten to come, _a him_. Sam seemed so ridiculously happy about it last week when they had lunch together and went shopping on one of those rare occasions where Cassie had done all of her homework and had no trouble staying at a friend's.

There are so many factors when it comes to Sam that Janet can't even begin to list them down and check them. The pregnancy. The previous hosting of multiple symbiotes, the protein marker, the previous pregnancy, the suppressants. She wants to scream and wake up from this nightmare, but she cannot risk Sam's life to act childishly immature.

She orders the paramedics around, knowing these guys are the very best. Top of the line. And Sam shouldn't be needing them. She is not Air Force any longer, she should be _safe_, Janet thinks bitterly. But now she will have to work on her best friend like were she an injured soldier and not mother of two.

Hours later, she is still in the operation room with her staff who fulfill their job requirements. Janet must stand back and let the doctor in her work like this is just another patient. She cringes mentally when she sees the blood and the bruising, the paleness and the shadows on her body. Can this really be her friend? It is so surreal; she has treated Sam before on many occasions before she quitted the Stargate Program. Before she came to rediscover Sam as a mother. Now she is family. To assess the injuries and to try and fix things that shouldn't be wrong is frustratingly hard. Maintaining professionalism is so easy that it scares her.

They work past dawn, colleagues joining the corridors with worried faces, their expressions painted with fear, concern and utter fright for Sam's condition. Vala, Teal'c, Daniel. But who surprises Janet the most once she steps into the corridor is a face she has not seen in months. Once again, she swallows deeply as she makes her way to the group of family. The kind of family that transcends death. Going over the list of injuries – and surely forgetting some – in her head, she looks down at the medical chart, equally eager and unwilling to return to Sam's side.

She glances at Jack O'Neill, seeing the changes off-world deployment has made. His beard is scruffy and day-old, his skin tanned by a harsh sun, his eyes the same troubled and upset he would grant every member of SG-1, who he no longer leads. Despite this, his leadership has not changed. The fact that Sam is retired changes nothing. To him – to _them –_ she is one of their own. To Jack, however, she is more than that. The term girlfriend seems so belittling to define what they have been through. When she thinks of Ellie, Sam and Jack, she sees a joyful family. Everything has now fallen apart.

She opens her mouth to speak but can form no words when she sees the despair on their faces, mirroring her own. This is Sam. She is off-limits. So, when she begins to cite the wounds and injuries, Janet sees the relief that she is alive fall because of the many proofs that she shouldn't be.

Cracked ribs, swollen face, broken wrist, broken collarbone, sore chest, contusions, dislocated knee, internal bleeding. The list goes on, mercilessly painful, but when she reaches the end of her list, she pauses, looking at Jack, then catching Daniel's gaze. The baby. Jack doesn't know, Sam told her that. Should she be the one to tell him? He deserves to know, but now is not the time nor the place. She has survived the first surgery, but will need reconstructive once her body recovers from the first. Sam is so swollen that Jack won't be able to tell the difference – due to her height, Sam is not showing yet, that much at least.

As soon as he is informed of the injuries and allowed to see Sam, Jack brushes past Janet into her room. Janet closes her eyes painfully, holding back tears as she hugs the medical chart, damning this day.

Because not only is Sam in danger, but Elara is gone.

* * *

"_What do you want to be when you grow up, Elara?"_

"_I wanna be a pilot; like Jack and Mom."_

_Not for the first time, Sam halts her breath and subtly wonders if Ellie meant to add her father to that statement, while she glances at Michelle's mom and pretends everything is alright. _

* * *

Three days later, Janet is working the night shift when Sam stirs in her bed. Her swelling has dimmed, her temperature broken. This afternoon she sent Jack home, ordered the rest of the team out of there. Sam has yet to awake. Tubes cover her, monitoring her condition while Janet tries, unsuccessfully, to distract herself with reports. Even Cassie is worried for Sam, and if she doesn't awaken soon, odds for slipping into a coma are severe.

Jacob Carter has been contacted. The healing device will help Sam's natural healing ability, but Janet fears for the life of the baby. Technically, it shouldn't be a problem, but since the user of the device must be certain of what wounds to heal, Jacob must be acutely aware of every inch of his daughter's body and the state he should return it to. If he does not know upon healing, the baby might be seen as a threat, an injury to be absorbed into the body. There is also the slight possibility that the device might not work because of her state of pregnancy. Janet has done her best to fix her friend, but the waiting is killing her.

A groan confirms that Sam is, indeed, waking. She storms out of her office and into the infirmary, knowing exactly which bed the groan originates from. To see Sam stir and her eyelids move is a blessing she has waited for with held breath. Relief fills her face as she sees Sam's eyes blur and recognize Janet.

"Sam, sweetheart, it's me, Janet. You're in the infirmary. You were attacked," Janet says calmly, trying not to cheer, "Are you in any pain?"

As if running through her body, Sam winces slightly yet shakes her head. Panic rises in her, but Janet instructs her to calm down while she removes the tube from her throat. After a few coughs and a sip of water, Sam takes in the room with exhausted eyes not willing to fall asleep. With a hoarse throat and pleading eyes, she looks up at Janet. "Ellie?"

Janet cannot bear to tell her the news. Apparently, her silence does. A violent sob escapes Sam's throat as she leans into Janet, her weak body quivering in hopelessness. Janet can't even begin to imagine the loss of a child. Even though she is certain that SG-1 will get Ellie back, her words fall empty on deaf ears. Sniffles and sobs continue throughout the night, and Janet is sure that she has never seen her friend this devastated, this hopeless, this weak. She doesn't speak, and into the early hours of dawn, tears fall on her cheeks until she can't anymore.

Curled up in a fetal position, Sam disappears from the world, detaching herself from even Janet's reassurances. Truthfully, Janet cannot blame her. Retreating to herself has been Sam's defense mechanism since Pakhet. At least then she had Ellie; now she is alone even amongst friends. She doesn't wish it on SG-1 and Jack to see Sam like this, but has no choice. Eventually, she will have to inform them.

"Sam," Janet whispers, then, upon receiving no response, she raises her voice. "Sam. We need to talk. About the baby."

Magically, Sam's head shoots up, her eyes rimmed red by tears. Her eyes nearly pierce Janet, who attributes any uncharacteristic traits to the current situation. It seems as if Sam had forgotten. Another tragedy. "How is he?"

"Worsening, I'm afraid. Sam, I'll need to perform further surgery to improve the odds of his survival. The blows you suffered didn't hit him directly, but caused enough damage for his niche to fail. Seeing as you're barely five months along, it will mean bed rest for the rest of your pregnancy."

Janet watches Sam absorb the words and their meaning with withdrawal. Like she is slipping. Grasping straws. Janet doesn't know how to treat Sam. With care, yes, but with fragility? Everything she held dear has been ripped away. "Do I have your permission?"

Sam looks down, the movement obviously causing pain, caressing her stomach. Bruises cover her body, so Janet knows that every time she moves, it is with great agony, but Sam doesn't let it show. Amazingly calm – as opposed to a few hours ago – Sam's reply surprises her. "No."

"What do you mean, honey?" Janet asks carefully.

Sam looks up, her eyes determined and set on a mission. "I said no."

Flabbergasted, Janet tries to find words to express herself, but calmly, Sam asks for a pencil and a piece of paper. Delivering it to her, watching her draw while she voices her concern, Janet is awarded with a simple drawing and a look from Sam.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Janet spends a day trying to explain Sam the consequences of her refusal to undergo surgery again. It will be the third and hopefully last, this one for the baby but officially to check internal bleeding. Her left eye is surrounded by blackish skin, but she is so lucid and calm that it frightens Janet. Her persistency and channeled anger is another thing. Her oath one thing, her loyalty to her friend another, it does matter to Janet. She reminds Sam of the joys she felt last week at talking about this baby, but her friend has now resorted to using the word 'it' and not a 'he', merely asking every hour if somebody has been sent to go after the Jaffa. To find Ellie.

Daniel seeks her out when she leaves Sam's bed. Jack goes to watch her sleep, but as usual, Daniel's observations prove right. He knew about her pregnancy. His tender eyes, his worried expression his care, it all shows in his movements. "She won't save the baby?"

Shocked, Janet widens her eyes but lets her face fall. "No. She is refusing the surgery that will help its survival. I think she is too focused on Ellie."

"There is never anything too focused for Sam," Daniel reminds her with a sad face. "I saw her four days ago. A mere hours before they came and did this." He glances in the direction of the infirmary while stirring his cup of coffee with a spoon.

"You did?" Janet didn't know this. Then she is not the first to notice Sam's change of behavior. Changed priorities. Changed circumstances.

"She was so happy. They both were. Ellie was smiling like she knew a secret we didn't. It turns out, she did. The baby. I reckon it's Jack's?" It is more a statement that an actual question, but Janet nods, confirming it.

"She had been seeing a civilian doctor before she came to me. Wanted to be sure, I guess. She was so happy a week ago, discussing births and names. It is so surreal now."

"Jack doesn't know," he realizes. His eyes fall disapproving, awaiting, on Janet.

"I can't tell him," she admits. "Sam made me swear. And now, I simply can't," Janet adds, her throat suddenly hoarse. It is incompetence as a doctor, but loyalty as a friend. "And if she decides to make the baby go away, why should she?"

"He deserves to know," Daniel states with a hint of anger, his fingers fidgeting with his cup, not having sipped it yet. She doubts he will.

"Who are we to even phantom this play-out?" She sighs. "None of this is right. She has suffered so much. I thought this was her salvation. Their final happiness. And now, nothing is right."

"Agreed."

They sit there in silence, trying to figure out which wrongs and rights they can correct in this world, but always coming up short. By the time Jacob arrives to see his girl and let Selmak heal her, they have not decided who to tell. But when Sam is healed, the first she does is to shun Jack from her bed, falling back asleep and refusing to speak to anyone, letting Janet and Daniel ponder over their decision.

* * *

_**Two weeks later**_

"Under no circumstances am I willing to allow this! Ms Carter, we're doing our best to –." Landry tries to remain calm and authoritative, but fails miserably and knows this once he looks into the blue, persistent orbs of Samantha Carter.

"It's _Major _Carter, sir," she corrects him mockingly, her straight back never leaving the military posture. She is dressed in her dress blues, a fading bruise on her eye socket making her eye look even paler than usual. He has expected this, even been warned of its coming from higher-ups – General Hammond – and SGC personnel, especially the ones in the infirmary who have been treating and subsequently dealing with Major Carter.

Newly reinstated Major Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force stands before him, gaze unwavering, fiercely determined to be allowed back on one of the SG teams. It has been eight years since she was an active member, but Landry does not doubt that she is capable of anything the galaxy throws at her. Her mental state, however, isn't something he wants to vouch for. Hell, he doesn't want to be near her in her deadly state. She has grown lethally silent during the last couple of weeks where she has been healing. Visits from Jacob Carter and the rest of close friends haven't done anything to talk her out of her (suicidal) new mission in life.

Landry thinks of Caroline when he looks at Carter, who he knows is brilliantly suited for the stress and mental as well as physical challenges. Caroline, who doesn't wish to speak to him, but whom he cares for greatly. God knows everybody is aware of what happened to Carter's daughter. Abducted in the middle of the night by Jaffa who nearly beat Carter to death. Carter putted up a fight, her body proves that and the trashed house as well as the report. He knows it by heart, even though he doesn't have to, to see the haunted look of determination, the shadows of injuries and the marred guilt. He pretends not to notice the slightest limp in her walk, but Dr. Fraiser has reluctantly given her a clean bill of health, her eyes begging him not to allow Samantha to do anything stupid. Frankly, Landry is equally worried what will happen if he does and what will happen if he doesn't. Carter has outright refused any help, distancing herself from Colonel O'Neill, who had rapidly been called back from the delta site upon news of the tragic incident. Even the General knows the grapevine that Carter and O'Neill were playing house with her daughter. Having read of Carter's deeds, he wants her fighting the battle, but recognizes the hazardous ways of a grieving mother.

Six days ago, Daniel Jackson identified the drawing Carter handed medical officer in charge Dr. Janet Fraiser. It turned out to be a symbol for a Goa'uld named Erebus. The amount of intensity focused on bringing back the harcesis child and the team effort from SG-1 have been fierce and unstoppable. Shortly after the incident where Elara Carter was taken and Carter herself beaten, a Tok'ra named Lantash arrived. It was he who identified the symbol, upset by the news of Carter's injuries. Collaborating with Jacob Carter and his symbiote, Selmak, they made a certain identification of the Goa'uld responsible for tearing Carter's life apart. They had to depart soon after, Lantash fiercely promising to aid in any way possible and that the Tok'ra would be informing Earth of any possible locations of Erebus.

Only after the fact was Landry able to recall that Lantash – or, at least, his former host – had fathered Ellie, Carter's child. He obviously held great care for the child that is now missing.

"Major Carter," he corrects, "I am aware of your wishes to rejoin this program, and the fact that you have been discharged from the infirmary, but there are no spots available on SG teams currently."

Bluntly, she doesn't batter an eye. "Then create one, sir. I may have been inactive for the last eight years, but I don't need to remind you of my continuant assets to this operation. Four years ago –."

"–I know, Major. I will consider this, but even if Dr. Fraiser has given you the medical clear, I don't want you anywhere near the gate the next two weeks. Then I will assess the need for additional SG teams and if you are in any mental state to be leading one."

She nods reluctantly, obviously dismayed but sated at the result of her argumentative side. Landry hopes these two weeks will make her reconsider. He doesn't want a reckless and careless Carter to go out avenging on the galaxy. Not if it means compromising her and any team members. She has been brutally blunt when it comes to her new agenda. Physically, she has hardened, cut her hair short to reach just below the shoulders, and dressed in assigned BDUs. She has finished all her projects in the lab, leaving detailed notes on how to proceed with further testing and research for developers at Area 51. It is more than obvious what her intentions are. Getting her daughter back and if not, dying to avenge all who took her away. Waging war with the galaxy is not on Earth's agenda, and as supervisor, he is responsible for all of her actions.

"Dismissed, Major."

**x STARGATE SG-1 x **

She feels cold as she steps out of General Landry's office. Previously, it belonged to Hammond, and it has taken much inner correcting to adjust to the change of thoughts. She exhales deeply, closing her eyes. Two weeks. Swiftly, she begins to walk down the corridor, reminding herself that she is now a soldier. So much has changed in two weeks. The mere fact that everything is now different has been shocked into her. She is glad to be out of the infirmary, but reluctant to go home. Reluctant to face Ellie's room and the living room, afraid to relive the horror and terror in her daughter's eyes before her own world went dark in pain. Her recovery has been swift because of alien healing devices, but it does not help. It took Janet forever to let her leave her sight.

She looks down at her flat stomach. Aaron is no more, that her last medical check-up showed. Gone. She forces herself to look at it with a positive attitude; this means she is capable of searching actively for Elara. The last of her extra weight is gone thanks to working out in the on-base gym.

"Sam!"

She spins around unceremoniously, catching sight of Jack. Sighing internally, she puts on a fake smile. She has done her best to avoid him, not knowing what to say. Obviously she doesn't want him to know about Aaron; no need to add another failure for a child to his burden over Charlie. Did she fail him by allowing them to take Elara? It is a question she asks herself every night.

"Jack," she says, a little too soft for her new distance. She still loves him, still flashes back to tender moments, moments in bed, moments with Ellie. Moments of the life that can never be. She knows he will try to talk her out of this. But how can he claim to understand? Even though they pretended to, Ellie isn't his daughter. The heartache and blame is to be putted on her solely. However, when she looks at him, wincing at him stepping closer, she nearly cries. All she wants to do is lean against his chest and wake up to Ellie making pancakes. But it won't happen, and every morning that devastates her.

"What were you doing in Landry's office?" he asks, even though he doesn't need to, because he should know her well enough to be aware of her new mission. He will try to talk her out of it. Now he tries to be casual, but she can visualize the disapproval. He wishes to be there for her, even took time off from the delta site, but he reminds her too much of Ellie. Of the what-ifs.

She straightens her back. Technically, he is a superior officer. "We were discussing future positions," she says cryptically. Lowering her gaze, she swallows, trying not to face him.

"You want back on a team," he replies in disbelief. It angers her, so she responds flippantly.

"Any reason not to?"

She immediately regrets her remark upon seeing his hurtful face. But as always (at least for the two weeks), he is not angered by her words, able to put it aside and blame it on circumstances. "Sam, we need to talk. I know this seems so helpless, but we are going to find her."

Common sense and rationality should tell her that what he says is true. But after two weeks of waiting, being restrained to a hospital bed, has done nothing to assure her. She wants out there to save her daughter, because if she doesn't, it will be like admitting that Ellie is lost.

"I can't, Jack, I can't sit back and let it tear me apart. You know what they're like. They have her! They have my daughter," she whispers viciously, tears threatening to fear. He reaches to caress her in comfort, but she shies away. She doesn't want his comfort; she wants his support for her going out there.

Finally, her blue eyes reaches his brown ones, and she identifies the despair in his eyes. But she can't let herself fall back into safety and comfort. Into his arms. She remembers every touch of his fingers on her skin as if it was yesterday and not four months ago. She hasn't been with him since he deployed. She has focused her attention on getting better, on getting out of the infirmary and Janet's nice gestures, on getting Landry to get her back on an SG team. She will even be sated with a reconnaissance team, or a meet-and-greet team. Anything that will allow some exploration and search for Erebus.

Haunted by memories of Ellie, she faces Jack, memorizing every feature. Her words are harsh, but she needs a clean start. Clean slate. Tabula rasa. "I'm sorry, Colonel."

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**For you guys! Hate, love?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I just want to warn people. I never promised for this story to have a happy ending, no, but this story needed to happen for me to continue the series. I am winging it with Sam's emotions, so if they feel out of character for her, or for mothers with similar situations, deal with it. I'm doing my best and I think it would be natural for Sam to alienate those closest to her in an attempt to be brave and strong, to break their new image of her.

Thanks for the amazing reviews and people who like this story. I am already writing the next one which will be different but less sad than this one.

**Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own an inch of the Stargate franchise.**

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**Epilogue of CHANGING CIRCUMSTANCES**

The house feels so empty when she returns. Unlocking the door is a surrealistic experience. The echo of the wooden door slammed gently open travels through the house. When she bought the house on Pine Lake Drive all those years ago, she thought of her wondrous future with her unborn child. Now her womb is empty, her child abducted and she is left with two weeks of getting her things in order before hearing Landry's say on her suggestion. Until Ellie's abduction she couldn't have dared to challenge Landry on his authority or dare to suggest establishing a team for her to lead. She has rarely even lead a team while being on SG-1. Now the thought of leading someone through the galaxy seems doable.

They have all tried – Teal'c, Daniel, Janet, Vala, now Landry and Jack. She won't budge, but she will find her daughter, even if she has to meet-and-greet every planet in the known universe.

She steps quietly through the house she has come to know so well, her footsteps calm and tracing a familiar route. Air Force personnel has cleaned up the living room and kitchen, a courtesy from General Landry to prevent local police from gaining national secured intel.

Exhaling deeply, she travels her eyes across the neatly reorganized rooms that now seem so strange and foreign. Like she has been living somebody else's life for the past eight years. Like the last three weeks have been a nightmare specially customized for her. Even thinking this makes her heart beat faster, hyperventilating her systems before she calms herself down. It hurts to caress the doorknob to Ellie's room once she has dragged her feet upstairs. She lets out a breath before pushing it down.

She remembers the days of redoing this room, changing its use as nursery to actual bedroom for a young girl. The adult conversations with her daughter, mildly arguing about the color of the paint of the walls, the size of the desk she pleaded for, the fluffy army-green rug, the ridiculously cute ash shelves where Ellie kept her most beloved books, the poster of wild horses she'd bought on a flea-market without Sam's consent but had blackmailed Jack into putting up, and the paint-stained blinds for the southern-side windows. All what makes Ellie is in this very room. Her gaze wanders the book titles even though she has to stand on her toes to make them out on the shelf above Ellie's wallside draw-compartments bed. _The_ _Magician's Nephew _by C. S. Lewis is worn and Sam knows that she has read it more than once, entranced by its many ideas of genesises. Accompanied by the typical Little House book (Sam can't remember which one), and several less famous ones, they are all alphabetically organized.

Sam spins around slowly, taking in the echo of her daughter. This is where Jaffa took Ellie while she was being beaten in the very living room she just passed. Her bed is still unmade, the sheets and comforter ruffled, half-way unto the floor. Afternoon sunlight shines dimly through the windows, landing on the desk where Ellie's newest piece of _Tintin _lies abandoned. Dust has gathered on every horizontal piece of furniture, but the atmosphere still harbors remnants of Ellie.

It has been nearly three weeks without any leads. Three years of recovery, three weeks of ignoring what other people wanted her to. Three weeks of realizing that Ellie is gone. If she ever comes back .. – no, Sam can't let herself think like that. Ellie _will _come back because Sam will make it happen. Even if she has to execute every living Goa'uld to do that.

She changes clothes into something from her wardrobe. The silence of the house is deafening when accustomed to a child. It serves as an incentive. But to get Ellie back, things will have to change. She will have to quit being a mom – and it hurts so much to admit that – and begin being a soldier; a warrior; someone who can go through the Stargate and avenge the loss. Someone who will get Ellie back and not hesitate to do so.

She will have to go eight years back and get meaner.

And she can't do that from California.

With two weeks and a truckload of heartache, grief and determination, Sam begins to assemble moving boxes. She closes the door to Ellie's room, reluctant to begin that yet. She has two weeks and eight years of memories, but starting out with her missing daughter's room will be like tearing off endless band-aids. But it sticks to her mind, among the what-ifs, and is there whenever doubt resurfaces. Is she doing the right thing? What if Ellie never comes back, has she then ruined her life, her options, her possibilities, all for nothing? What if Ellie comes back, what will Sam tell her? That their house has been sold, their home belonging to someone else?

Her mind preoccupied, her fingers pack more than eight years of life into boxes, only keeping the essentials and necessities. She starts with the less frequented rooms, emptying drawers and coming up with things that have been missing for years. She won't lie and pretend that some of the things – like Ellie's stuffed bunny – don't make her sob in misery. But slowly, with breaks for eating food and sleeping, she gets there.

By day three, the phone rings. It takes her a few moment to realize that it's actually calling, having turned her cell phone on vibrator days ago, not counting in the phone in the living room, now relocated to the kitchen counter. Unlike many she doesn't turn on the radio to make the packing more cheerful. She doesn't need cheerful, it'll not make her forget. So she storms down the stirs, grabbing the phone that fateful moment before whoever is ringing hangs up.

"Carter." Old habits die hard and they seem to have resurfaced since Elli– since her _recovery._

"_This is Jenny Carlson. Ellie's riding instructor?_" the voice adds hesitantly. Sam searches her mind for a face to go with the name and vaguely remembers the redhead.

"Yeah, hi." Why would Jenny call her? Ellie hasn't been to the lessons for weeks. Sam can't even remember the cover story as the tears well up in her eyes. Her voice gets throaty, but she doubts Jenny will notice much less mind.

"_Have I caught you at a bad time? I can always call back,_" Jenny says, sounding apologetic. Sam puts her hand on the receiver, sighs and removes her hand, trying to steady her voice.

"No, no, it's fine."

"_Well,_" the rider starts, "_I am calling to know if I gotta write Ellie up for extra lessons. We spoke about this some weeks ago?_"

"We did," Sam confirms, remembering. But it's so different now.

"_I don't like pushing, but if you've decided I need to know so I can hold Smokey for her on that group.._"

She swallows. "It won't be necessary. Actually, I've been very busy. I just came back from the hospital, so it completely slipped my mind to call you, Jenny."

A chuckle is heard on the other end. "_It's okay. I hope it was nothing serious._"

Sam knits her brows in confusion, then remembers she just said she'd been hospitalized. Leaning against the kitchen counter with a dishtowel in one hand, she bites her lip. "No, but I'm afraid I'll have to cancel all of Ellie's riding lessons."

"_Oh, no._" It is the sound of personal disappointment and not out of a client leaving.

"Yeah," Sam confirms, trying to be casual and suppress the tears that threaten to fall. She must stick to the cover stories. Plural, because of the need-to-know basis. "We-we're moving this summer, sadly, so she won't be able to return to her lessons. I'm sorry."

"_Well, I'm too, but that's life, right?_" Jenny's voice rises a pitch. "_Will she be able to come and say goodbye to her friends? To Smokey and Whiskey?_"

"No, I'm afraid. I'll transfer the money, of course, but no, that's not in our plans."

Jenny sighs on the other end, but accepts it. "_I hope you'll be happy in your new house._"

"Me as well," Sam fakes and is reduced to silent tears. "Goodbye."

"_Bye_."

They hang up, and Sam slowly slides down the kitchen cabinets, eyeing the piece of fabric she has been fumbling with the whole conversation. A key ring with a canvas duckling. It's Ellie's. And damn if it doesn't make her cry.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

A week later she has packed most of the boxes. The realtor stops by, going through the rooms and squealing and making arm gestures when she steps into a particularly _extraordinary!_ room. It is to be sold furnished, because Sam plans to move into one of the VIP rooms on-base or get an apartment in Colorado Springs. She will take nobody up on the offers she has received. But that very afternoon after reliving the enthusiasm of the female realtor – often flashing back to the skeptical male realtor experience nine years ago when Mark accompanied her or family moments with Ellie and Jack – she is equally surprised and expectant to see Andy Kellogg.

She remembers meeting the shy and grand-sized man. Isolated and heavily pregnant, she had sought to be alone, but had embraced the company once she had given birth to her daughter and realized the amount of work that needed to be done with the house. Andy, single and kind-hearted, had helped her without bringing flirt to the friendship. He cooed over baby Ellie, he adored painting the nursery with her, even ordering her to bolt if she exhausted herself. Simple and lovable – that is Andy.

She sniffles and wipes her wet face with the back of her hand. How did she come to feel this horrible? She is sitting in the November weather, dressed in old wool coat from pre-pregnancy and a scarf. It is windy and she is sitting on the bare planks of the terrace overlooking the untended garden. The swing on the swing-set creaks in the wind, moving ghostly by itself; the same element blows her newly cut hair into a blizzard of messy strands, and Sam herself finds the wintery, autumnal weather a perfect echo of her emotional state, even if it is uncommon for California.

"Hi Sam," sounds his rough voice. She barely seems surprised and glances shortly at him before returning her gaze unto the lawn. Amazing how weather can change so fast.

He joins her side silently, sitting there for an unprecedented time, watching the leafs curl over and follow the wind. She doesn't know what to say so she keeps quiet. She should have told him about her plans and not left him and his fiancee, Alyson, to find out on their own. She knows him well enough to know that he wants her to speak, to explain like any good friend would, but due to changed circumstances, she can't contain herself enough to make up a decent explanation. The cover story is that Ellie was abducted, but that they are telling everybody else they're moving. "They" being her and Ellie and Jack, because everybody just assumed that they were living together. The truth is so icily harsh to bear, so she tries to keep it to herself a little longer, sparing him.

She catches a glimpse of his mittens; not that he is wearing them, no, but he has brought them, just-in-case. Because he is that kind of man. Even for a six-foot-seven accountant with nut-brown eyes, he is strikingly honest and possesses great family values. Sam can only hope that he will be happy with Alyson and that they'll get as many kids as they can handle. Physically strong, Andy is also emotionally tied to Ellie in a way that took Jack almost a year. He'll always be Uncle Andy and because he never made a move on her, he will be that to Sam, too. To remove him from Ellie's life – and the other way around – is unfair, bordering on cruel. But she cannot tell him the truth, mostly because he hasn't got clearance and wouldn't understand anyway. Most days she thinks herself insane, too.

Bree the beagle trots around on the lawn before their eyes, wagging her tail carefully, not disturbing them. With her spotted coat, she is as handsome as her owner.

"You are really selling it, huh?" It isn't meant to be judgmental or scornful, but it's confused and casual.

"Yeah," she responds hoarsely, her eyes falling on the spot where Ellie, Bree and Michelle held a bathing spa day. Soap was everywhere, joined by water and a small pool. She nearly chuckles, but all that surfaces is a ghostly smile.

"Has it anything to do with Jack?" Slowly, prying like a concerned friend. God it hurts to be the one to tell him.

She shakes her head, her expression detached. "No. Not directly."

"He done anything stupid?"

"No. But so much went wrong, Andy," she declares and looks into his eyes for the first time since he appeared. He is the one person she cannot bear to play tough towards. He is the one person to see her break down. "They took her."  
"Ellie? Who took her?"

Tearing up, she explains it in lay man's terms. "They came in the night. Beat me, grabbed Ellie. I thought it was a stray cat, but … God, Andy, you should've seen her. She was terrified. The last time I caught a glimpse of my daughter, she was terrified."

He pulls her into a hug and she lets him hold her while she sobs. She sobs for what happened; she sobs for the reason to lie; she sobs for letting go; she sobs because that is all she seems to find doable.

"Sam..," he sighs, hugging her. She is clearly not making any sense, but he chooses to trust her. "When was this?"

She straightens her back and sniffles once again. Her eyes are red with tears. "Three weeks ago. They're doing their best to find her, and –... I have to do this, Andy," she says hoarsely. "I can't just sit down and pretend everything's okay. You know me. You know Ellie."

Andy looks at her, that penetrating friendly gaze that is a comfort in itself, and speaks. "I know you will find her, Sam. And I know that Jack will do everything in his power to get your girl back."

Wounded, hurtful, devastated. Words Sam would have used to describe herself, but adjectives that she can see in Andy's orbs. He tries to be the good guy, tries to comfort her, when he is the single person she lets do that. Because he is civilian and the only simple thing in her life. Because moving will mean severing her ties with Andy Kellogg, a man she has grown to care for because of Ellie. Because of his tenderness.

"I'm not with Jack anymore."

His eyes ask 'why', but she appreciates his lack of questions. She knows he is just glad that she is speaking, because she'd be in his place. In five days she will now if she is allowed back to the Stargate Program, allowed to forget her life in the search for her daughter. Landry isn't stupid enough to pretend otherwise.

But for the moment, it feels less sad to have someone to lend a shoulder. So they sit their, mismatched partners, mourning times passed and circumstances they cannot change.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x**

Keeping in contact with the realtor via e-mail and having her stuff shipped across states, it is a well-prepared Samantha Carter who clocks in at Stargate Command at Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs, Denver, five days later. Her moving boxes packed, her bravado face on and tears no longer available, she stoically faces General Hank Landry who studies her carefully before speaking.

"This has been thoroughly discussed on higher levels, Major. Trust me, the decision is not an unanimous vote, but the IOA has agreed to reposition you into the Program. As for the blunt suggestion of an additional SG team.."

He looks at her sternly, waiting at her to break and confess, or to fall on her knees and beg, but she keeps posture even though she is unraveling on the inside. She understands the need for professionalism and frankly she'll be satisfied with a spot on an active off-world SG team. She has learnt to tame her spirit, to quieten it and let it fuel an incentive. As much as she hates to admit it, the two weeks have done her well. But it has also slowed her leads down immensely.

"An SG-26 team will be introduced, based primarily on your former actions while on SG-1. Furthermore will you be positioned as a consultant on SG-1, should they need your vast experience and knowledge, but the decision to act on this opportunity rests solely on Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchel. I believe you've met?"

"Yes, sir," she responds, dimming a smile, but nodding gratefully.

"I believe that's all. The members of your team is in this file. And I do not need to remind you of the collective mission. I doubt the decision myself to let you back into the field so close to... personal grief. That being said, welcome back into the fold, Major."

Less than two days later, she stands in BDUs, her eyes not meeting Jack's as she and her new team readies for a mission in front of the established wormhole of the Earth-based Stargate. She bites her lips and looks to each side, her feelings mirroring the ones of Jack O'Neill when he rejoined the Air Force on the assignment to Abydos all those years ago.

**x STARGATE SG-1 x SEIZE THE ORBIT x **

Thousands of lightyears away, a child is whimpering in a cell aboard a ha'tak mothership. She does not whimper because of her separation from her mother – that is what the silent tears are for; no, she whimpers because she knows what is to come, thanks to memories that are no hers. Memories that are exactly why she is here. But unlike her father, she does not have the courage to face the Jaffa's torture stick without physical pain.

Therefore, Elara whimpers and curls up, knowing fully well what is to come when the Jaffa of Erebus enter the door to the cell. It is that, and not the physical pain on her wrists from the shackles, that scare her senseless.

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**A/N: **_About this story: _I contemplated very much about this. I mean, it would have been too easy to have Sam rejoin the Stargate program and Air Force and would have made a boring story. Interesting, but common. A revenge thing. And we've seen Teal'c do that so many times.

To add a layer of the problem, and for reasons that will resurface in the next stories, I decided to get Sam pregnant. Another roll of tension between Jack and Sam that the relationship may not survive. I mean, why wouldn't Sam be happy for another child? Jack will retire in a few years, life is good, she has the common doubts, but generally wishes to keep the baby, even informing an excited Ellie of her little brother. However, I love the tragic, so (which was the initial idea to this story), I had Ellie kidnapped. Again, for reasons I will not mention, and to shape a darker, more mature Sam, I took her beloved daughter away, ripping her life apart. I figured, meh, they've had four years of relative happiness (which you haven't seen, so my stories may seem filled with surrealistic drama). And, uh – I like beating Sam. Trust me, I felt bad beating up a pregnant woman, but it was to rule out the possibility of purposefully miscarrying. I mean, even an avenging Sam wouldn't induce a miscarriage, she's not that far gone. I can't write that, seeing as I cannot even come near the emotional toll that would take. So, I created a miscarriage by having her beaten up and left for others to find. By not acting on it, she, by method of ignoring, lets her small child die. There is a difference.

Once again, a fatal blow has hit the Jack/Sam dynamic. By not telling him about Aaron's death and his existence, she may have hidden the guilt and grief, but now she ignores his attempts to quieten her spirit. She will find her daughter.

I had Lantash visit. That was a tear-inducing scene. It was brief, but I liked it. As stated, it was based on a certain someone's suggestion. Sadly I decided not to take the idea to its full potential. It didn't flow with my ideas of the next couple of stories. I won't shut down the idea of bringing him back, but you're going to live without him for now.

-NEXT UP: the next installment will be called **Changing Tides **and will be a cross-over with Stargate: Atlantis.


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